HEROIC 
BALLADS 

OF 

SER.VIA 


GEORGE  RAPALL 
And  LEONARD  BACON 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


_        _  £~*~~ **^t 

K* 


HEROIC  BALLADS 
OF  SERVIA 


TRANSLATED  INTO  ENGLISH  VERSE 

BY 
GEORGE  RAPALL  NOYES 

AND 

LEONARD  BACON 


BOSTON 

SHERMAN,  FRENCH  &  COMPANY 
1913 


COPYBIGHT,    1913 

SHERMAN,  FRENCH  6"  COMPANY 


PREFACE 

The  purpose  of  the  present  volume  is  to  give 
specimens  of  the  best  portions  of  a  ballad  litera- 
ture that  is  among  the  most  remarkable  in  Europe. 
For  the  translation  of  the  ballads  from  the 
Servian,  and  for  the  introduction  and  notes,  I  am 
responsible ;  Mr.  Bacon  has  transformed  my  prose 
texts  into  English  verse.  Each  of  us,  however, 
has  of  course  made  suggestions  as  to  the  work  of 
the  other. 

Most  of  the  material  in  the  introduction  I  have 
taken  from  Karajich  (see  below,  pp.  10,  11), 
and  from  the  concise  Sketch  of  Servian  Literature 
(in  Servian)  of  Professor  Popovich  (Belgrade, 
1909).  For  various  minor  details  in  the  book  as 
a  whole  I  am  indebted  to  several  previous  transla- 
tors from  the  Servian  and  writers  on  Servia  and 
its  literature;  to  be  exact,  to  Bowring,  Servian 
Popular  Poetry  (London,  1827)  ;  Elodie  Lawton 
Mijatovich,  Kossovo  (London,  1881)  ;  D'Avril,  La 
Bataille  de  Kossovo  (Paris,  1868)  ;  Vogl,  Marko 
Kraljevits  (Vienna,  1851)  ;  Chedo  Mijatovich, 
Servia  and  the  Servians  (Boston,  Page,  1908); 
Lazarovich-Hrebelianovich,  The  Servian  People 
(New  York,  Scribner,  1910);  W.  Miller,  The 
Balkans  (New  York,  Putnam,  1896);  Ranke, 


Serbien  und  die  Tiirkei  im  neunzehnten  JdhrJvun- 
dert  (Leipzig,  1879;  also  translated  by  Kerr, 
London,  1847).  To  Messrs.  Charles  Scribner's 
Sons  and  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons  I  am  indebted  for 
their  courteous  permission  to  reprint  passages  of 
some  length  from  the  copyright  works  published 
by  them. 

Next  to  Karajich  and  Popovich,  however,  I  owe 
most  to  Mr.  Milivoy  S.  Stanoyevich,  a  graduate 
of  the  University  of  Belgrade,  who  has  aided  me 
in  various  ways,  notably  in  the  selection  of  the 
later  ballads,  in  the  translation  of  difficult  pas- 
sages, and  in  the  accentuation  of  the  Servian 
names.  Without  his  kindly  help  this  volume  would 
be  much  more  imperfect  than  it  is  at  present. 

G.   R.   NOTES. 


CONTENTS 

FACE 

INTRODUCTION 1 

A  BALLAD  OF  SERVIA  BEFORE  THE 
TURKISH  CONQUEST 

THE  BUILDING  OF  SKADAR     ......      15 

BALLADS  OF  K6SOVO  FIELD 

THE  BUILDING  OF  RAVANITSA 27 

BAN    STRAHIN 82 

TSAR  LAZAR  AND  TSARITSA  M/LITSA   ....  60 

FRAGMENTS  OF  Kosovo  BALLADS 68 

THE  BATTLE  OF  Kosovo 77 

How  MILOSH  CBILICH  SLEW  THE  SULTAN  MURAD  81 

MUSICH   STEVAN 88 

THE  DEATH  OF  THE  MOTHER  OF  THE  YUGOVICHI  94 

TSARITSA   MILITSA  AND  VLADETA   THE  VOYVODA  97 

THE  MAID  OF  K6sovo 99 

THE  HEAD  OF  TSAR  LAZAR 105 

BALLADS  OF  MARKO  KRALYEVICH 

UROSH  AND  THE  SONS  OF  MARNYAVA  .      .      .      .111 

PRINCE   MARKO  AND  THE  VILA 120 

PRINCE  MARKO  AND  THE  SWORD  OF  VUKASHIN  125 

PRINCE  MARKO  AND  THE  EAGLE 130 

THE  MARRIAGE  OF  PRINCE  MARKO   .      .      .      .133 
PRINCE   MARKO  AND  ALIL  AGA    .  .145 


PAGE 

PRINCE  MARKO  AND  MINA  OP  KOSTUR  .  .  .152 
PRINCE  MARKO  AND  BEY  KOSTADIN  ....  165 
PRINCE  MARKO  AND  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  THE 

MOORISH    KING 168 

PRINCE   MARKO'S  PLOWING 172 

MARKO  DRINKS  WINE  IN  RAMAZAN  .  .  .  .174 
THE  DEATH  OF  MARKO  KRALYEVICH  .  .  .178 

BALLADS  OF  SERVIA  UNDER  TURKISH   RULE 

THE  MAIDEN  MARGITA  AND  RAYKO  THE  VOYVODA  187 
How  STAR!NA  NOVAK  BECAME  A  HAYDUK  .  .  191 
STAR!NA  NOVAK  AND  THE  BOLD  RADIVOYE  .  .195 

THE  DEATH  OF  Ivo  OF  SENYE 199 

THE  MARRIAGE  OF  STOYAN  YANKOVICH  .  .  202 
THE  CAPTIVITY  OF  STOYAN  YANKOVICH  .  .  216 

A  MONTENEGRIN  BALLAD 

THE  WAR  OF  THE   MONTENEGRINS  WITH  MAH- 

MUD    PASHA 225 

BALLADS  WITHOUT  HISTORICAL  FOUNDATION 

PREDRAG  AND  NENAD 241 

SISTER  AND  BROTHER 249 

MUYO  AND  ALIYA 254 

THE  MIRACLE  OF  ST.  NICHOLAS 258 

THE  SERPENT  BRIDEGROOM 260 

THE   WIFE   OF   HASAN   AGA 271 


HEROIC  BALLADS  OF  SERVIA 


INTRODUCTION 

The  ballads  of  Servia  occupy  a  high  position, 
perhaps  the  highest  position,  in  the  ballad  litera- 
ture of  Europe.  Of  them  Jacob  Grimm  wrote: 
"They  would,  if  well  known,  astonish  Europe," 
and  "in  them  breathes  a  clear  and  inborn  poetry 
such  as  can  scarcely  be  found  among  any  other 
modern  people."  l  The  origin  of  this  popular  lit- 
erature goes  back  to  a  period  of  which  no  written 
record  exists ;  its  known  history  dates  from  the 
fourteenth  century,  since  which  time  it  is  absolutely 
continuous.  And  in  Servia,  unlike  England  and 
Spain,  ballads  still  survive  as  an  important  part 
of  the  nation's  intellectual  life ;  they  are  still  sung, 
and  still  composed,  by  peasant  poets  who  have  re- 
ceived their  training  from  oral  tradition  instead 
of  from  the  printed  page. 

According  to  their  subjects  the  Servian  ballads 
may  be  divided  into  two  very  unequal  divisions, 
the  first,  and  by  far  the  larger,  being  based  on 
the  national  history,  while  the  second  lacks  any 
such  historical  foundation.  Yet  the  line  between 
the  two  groups  cannot  be  strictly  drawn ;  well- 
known  folk-lore  motives  or  mere  popular  jests  are 

i  Quoted  by  Vogl,  Marko  Kraljevits,  p.  iii. 
[1] 


Continually  attached  to  historical  heroes.  Such 
ballads  as  Prince  Marko' s  Plowing  and  Marko 
Drinks  Wine  in  Ramazdn  can  be  called  "historical" 
only  in  the  most  ultra-catholic  interpretation  of 
the  term. 

The  historical  ballads  may  again  be  divided 
into  more  or  less  definite  cycles.  First  in  order  of 
time  come  those  dealing  with  the  kings  of  the 
Nemanich  dynasty  (1168-1367).  This  royal  line 
made  less  impression  on  the  popular  mind  by  its 
heroic  exploits  than  by  its  piety  in  founding 
churches  and  monasteries  (cf.  p.  £8).  The  sur- 
viving ballads  of  the  cycle,  which  are  few  in  num- 
ber, are  represented  in  this  volume  by  Urosh  and 
the  Sons  of  Mamydva 1  and  The  Building  of 
Skadar.  After  the  death  of  the  great  tsar  Stepan 
Dushan  in  1356,  his  son,  the  weak  Urosh, 
came  to  the  throne,  but  was  unable  to  preserve 
his  authority  intact.  The  leader  of  the  revolting 
chieftains  was  King  Vukashin,  who  defeated  his 
lawful  superior  and  caused  him  to  be  slain.  Of 
the  rivalry  of  the  two  men  the  ballad  Urosh  and  the 
Sons  of  Mamydva  preserves  a  distant  echo;  to  the 
historic  brothers  Vukashin  and  Uglyesha  it  adds 
a  third,  Goyko,  unknown  outside  of  folk-lore. 
Another  glimpse,  still  more  legendary,  of  the  three 
brothers  is  preserved  in  The  Building  of  Skadar. 

The  cycle  of  the  battle  of  Kosovo  forms  the 
classic  center  of  the  Servian  ballads.  After  the 
death  of  Vukashin,  being  hard  pressed  by  the 

i  This  ballad  is  here  printed  as  the  first  of  those  dealing 
with  Prince  Marko,  with  which  also  it  may  be  classed. 
[3] 


Turks,  the  Servians  in  1371  elected  as  their  tsar, 
Lazar,  a  leader  who  had  served  under  Dushan  and 
was  connected  with  him  by  marriage.  His  efforts 
to  save  the  country  were  vain;  on  June  15  (St. 
Vitus'  day),  1389,  his  armies  were  crushed  by 
those  of  Murad  I.  Both  rulers  fell  on  the  battle- 
field, Murad  being  killed  by  a  Servian  to  whom 
one  of  the  contemporary  accounts  gives  the  title 
of  "a  faithful  servant  of  Lazar,  by  name  Milosh." 
About  1431  Constantine  the  Philosopher,  a  Servian 
biographer,  states  that  the  "great  noble"  who 
killed  Murad  was  "slandered  to  his  lord  by  envious 
tongues  as  wishing  to  betray  him."  An  anony- 
mous Italian  writer  (about  1500)  tells  how  on  the 
eve  of  battle  Lazar  reproached  Milosh  with  wishing 
to  betray  him,  and  how  Milosh  replied  that  the 
event  would  prove  his  truth  or  treason ;  the  same 
source  states  that  on  the  battlefield  there  was  a 
report  of  the  treachery  of  a  voyvoda  l  named  Dra- 
goslav  Pribishich.  Finally  Mauro  Orbini  in  his 
Regno  d-e  gli  Slazi  (1601)  for  the  first  time 
ascribes  the  betrayal  of  Lazar  to  his  son-in-law 
Vuk  Brankovich,  whose  fair  fame  is  thus  wrong- 
fully besmirched.  Orbini  makes  Milosh,  like  Vuk, 
the  son-in-law  of  Lazar,  and  tells  of  the  origin 
of  the  enmity  of  the  two  men  in  a  quarrel  between 
their  wives  Mara  and  Vukosava ;  in  other  words,  he 
gives  the  Kosovo  legend  in  practically  its  complete 
form,  as  it  is  found  in  the  ballads  here  printed.2 
It  is,  however,  probably  the  product  of  popu- 

1  Duke,  lord. 

2  The  story  of  the  quarrel  of  Mara  and  Viikosava  is  not, 
however,  included  in  this  volume. 

[3] 


lar  tradition,  not  of  Orbini  and  his  predecessors. 

Upon  this  Kosovo  legend  many  episodes  are 
grafted,  such  as  those  of  Ban  Strahin,  Musich 
Stevan,  and  the  Maid  of  Kosovo.  The  ballads 
often  represent  varying  traditions ;  thus  the  ac- 
counts of  Lazar's  church  in  The  Battle  of  Kosovo 
and  The  Building  of  Ravdnitsa  are  not  perfectly 
consistent  with  each  other.  They  depart  widely 
from  historical  truth,  making  Vukashin,  for  ex- 
ample, who  died  in  1371,  and  Ertseg  Stepan,  who 
belongs  to  a  later  period,  both  take  part  in  the 
battle  of  Kosovo.1 

These  Kosovo  songs  are  emphatically  not  frag- 
ments of  a  primitive  epic,  but  ballads  dealing  with 
detached  episodes.  The  attempts  that  have  been 
made  to  stitch  them  together  into  a  connected 
whole  result  in  damaging  splendid  ballads  without 
constructing  an  epic  worthy  of  the  name.  They 
furnish  an  argument  of  some  weight  against  the 
Homeric  theories  of  Lachmann  and  his  school. 

If  the  Kosovo  cycle  be  the  most  elevated,  dig- 
nified, epic  portion  of  the  Servian  popular  poetry, 
the  ballads  of  Marko  Kralyevich  (Prince  Marko) 
are  of  more  dramatic  interest,  combining  tragic 
pathos  with  almost  ribald  comedy  in  a  fashion 
worthy  of  an  Elizabethan  playwright.  Unlike 
Strahin  and  Milosh,  who,  to  borrow  a  phrase  from 
Dryden,  are  "patterns  of  exact  virtue,"  radiant  as 
their  garments,  Marko  is  a  burly  spoiled  child, 
strong,  self-willed,  capricious,  at  times  cruel,  but 

iThis  topic  is  discussed  by  H.  Munro  Chadwick,  The 
Heroic  Age  (Cambridge,  1912),  pp.  313-319. 

[4] 


always  brave,  always  kind  to  the  weak  and  friend- 
less, whether  they  be  fair  maidens  or  mere  birds 
of  prey,  and,  above  all,  always  a  devoted  son  to  his 
old  mother  Yevrosima.  The  historic  Marko,  the 
son  of  King  Vukashin,  was  not  of  great  importance. 
After  his  father's  death  he  ruled  over  a  portion 
of  Macedonia,  with  Prilip  as  his  capital;  in  1385 
he  submitted  to  Turkish  sovereignty ;  and  in  1394 
he  perished,  fighting  for  the  Sultan  Bajazet  against 
the  Voyvoda  Mircha  of  Wallachia.  But  he  must 
have  endeared  himself  to  the  nation  by  his  personal 
qualities,  for  he  became  by  far  the  best  known  and 
the  best  beloved  hero  of  the  ballads.  In  one  re- 
spect, at  least,  the  ballads  about  him  are  true  to 
history.  Although  Marko  is  associated  with 
Milosh  as  his  sworn  brother,  and  although  he  visits 
the  field  of  Kosovo  after  the  defeat  of  the  Servians 
(see  pp.  130-32),  he  is  assigned  no  part  in  the  bat- 
tle itself;  as  to  the  cause  of  his  absence  from  the 
fray  the  ballads  are  silent. 

From  the  great  days  of  heroic  conflict  with  the 
Turks  to  the  dark  ages  of  oppression,  the  ballads 
of  The  Maiden  Mar  git  a  and  Rayko  the  Voyvoda, 
with  its  lament  over  fallen  champions,  forms  a 
natural  transition.  The  time  of  Turkish  rule 
lacked  great  exploits  and  great  personalities;  its 
heroes  were  the  hayduks,  or  robber  outlaws,  of 
whom  the  most  famous  was  Starma  Novak,  who 
with  his  band  of  followers,  including  his  sworn 
brother,  the  bold  Radivoye,  lived  in  Bosnia  late 
in  the  sixteenth  century.  Though  they  use  mus- 
kets instead  of  bows,  these  worthies,  as  they  appear 
[5] 


in  the  ballads,  are  own  cousins  of  Robin  Hood  and 
Little  John. 

"After  Herzegovina  was  subdued  by  the  Turks 
(1482),  many  of  the  inhabitants  fled  to  Dalmatia 
and  Klis  [near  Salona],  and  after  the  fall  of  Klis 
(1537)  they  went  to  Zengg  [Senye  in  the  ballads] 
on  the  Croatian  seacoast,  in  order,  as  hired  soldiers 
of  the  emperor,  to  defend  the  country  from  Turk- 
ish marauding  bands :  these  are  the  fugitives." 
A  special  cycle  of  ballads  glorifies  these  "fugitives," 
of  whom  Ivo  of  Senye,  who  lived  about  1600,  is 
the  chief  hero.  With  this  cycle  may  be  grouped 
the  ballads  of  the  "seacoast  heroes,"  who,  however, 
are  not  in  the  strict  sense  "fugitives."  They  are 
not  from  Zengg,  but  from  Kotari,  in  northern 
Dalmatia,  and  are  of  a  later  date,  the  middle  and 
end  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Among  them  is 
Stoyan  Yankovich,  who  in  1689  contributed  to 
the  fall  of  Udbina  and  the  freeing  of  Lika  and 
Kribava  from  the  Turks.  The  ballads  that  deal 
with  him  have  little  connection  with  his  actual  ex- 
ploits. 

Of  ballads  more  recent  in  subject-matter  this 
volume  contains  but  one  specimen,  The  War  of 
the  Montenegrins  with  Mahmud  Pasha  (1796), 
which  represents  the  cycle  of  the  freeing  of  Monte- 
negro. Unlike  their  predecessors,  the  ballads  of 
this  group  are  better  history  than  poetry.  "Short 
and  simple,  generally  without  poetic  descriptions 
or  long  conversations,  almost  entirely  without  the 
vila  or  raven  motives,  they  sing  in  a  realistic  fash- 
i  Quoted  by  P6povich  without  indication  of  source. 

[6] 


ion  the  wars  of  the  Montenegrins  with  the  Turks; 
they  celebrate  only  real  persons,  and  when  they 
mention  even  unimportant  actors,  always  preserve 
the  topography  of  their  doings  accurately  and 
consistently.  In  them  women  play  no  part." 

The  ballads  lacking  historical  foundation  are 
of  the  most  varied  sort.  Thus  The  Serpent  Bride- 
groom, and  Sister  and  Brother  are  versified  fairy 
tales,  dealing  with  familiar  folk-lore  motives. 
Predrag  and  Nenad  is  ostensibly  a  hayduk  story, 
but  its  plot  is  not  purely  Servian ;  it  is  known  to 
English  readers  from  Malory's  tale  of  Balin  and 
Balan,  or  Tennyson's  modern  version  of  it.  St. 
Nicholas  is  a  naive  popular  legend,  while  Muyo 
and  Alii/a  tells  of  the  misdeeds  of  an  unusually 
wicked  vila,  or  mountain  nymph.  On  the  other 
hand,  TJie  Wife  of  Hasan  Aga  is  a  simple,  power- 
ful tragedy  of  domestic  life. 

The  Servian  heroic  ballads  are  now  all  composed 
in  one  measure,  an  unrimed  line  of  ten  syllables, 
with  a  caesura  after  the  fourth  syllable.  There  is  no 
regular  arrangement  of  accents;  but,  as  no  Servian 
word  (except  of  course  monosyllables)  is  accented 
on  the  ultima,  the  effect  of  the  verse,  when  read 
or  recited,  is  of  an  irregular  trochaic  rhythm. 

I  ponese  tri  tovara  blaga 

Ya  kad  tako    svadbu  uredishe. 

When  the  ballads  are  sung,  the  prose  accents  are 
set  aside,  and  the  lines  become  regular  trochaic 
pentameter.2 

1  P6povich. 

2  Karajich,     Preface     to     second     edition     of     Servian 
National  Songs,  1824  (in  government  edition,  1891). 


Previous  English  translations  have  imitated  more 
or  less  closely  this  Servian  meter.  To  the  trans- 
lators of  the  present  volume  it  seemed  better  to  cast 
aside  entirely  the  native  measure,  as  one  essentially 
foreign  to  the  genius  of  the  English  language,  and 
to  adopt  a  verse  modeled  on  that  which,  in  Sigurd 
the  Vclsung,  William  Morris  has  made  classic  by 
his  handling  of  a  subject  that  is  spiritually  akin 
to  the  Kosovo  ballads.  At  this  point  it  may  be 
well  to  forestall  a  possible  cavil.  Metrists  will 
note  that  the  translators,  while  in  the  main  em- 
ploying the  measure  of  six  and  a  half  feet  or  thir- 
teener,  have  liberally  interspersed  the  seven-foot 
line  or  fourteener.  Lovers  of  the  glorious  measure 
of  Sigurd  the  Volsung  may  perhaps  resent  this 
variation,  but  the  citation  of  a  precedent  from  Ma- 
caulay  should  be  sufficient  to  establish  the  dignity 
of  the  practice: 

And  in  the  vats  of  Luna, 

This  year  the  must  shall  foam 
Round  the  white  feet  of  laughing  girls 

Whose  sires  have  marched  to  Rome. 

The  Servian  ballads  are  ordinarily  recited  or 
chanted  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  gusle,  a  crude, 
one-stringed  instrument,  in  appearance  somewhat 
like  a  mandolin,  but  played  with  a  bow.  The  tones 
of  the  gusle  come  in  only  at  the  close  of  the  verses. 
On  their  distribution  Karajich  wrote  thus  in  1823: 
"The  heroic  songs  are  now  sung  most  often  and 
with  most  zest  in  Bosnia,  Herzegovina,  Monte- 
negro, and  the  southern,  mountainous  regions  of 
[8] 


Servia.  In  these  places  even  to-day  almost  every 
house  has  its  gusle,  and  it  is  hard  to  find  a  man 
who  does  not  know  how  to  play  it,  and  many 
women  and  girls  know  how."  l  In  the  lower  re- 
gions the  gusle  grows  less  common,  until  it  finally 
becomes  the  peculiar  possession  of  blind  beggars, 
who  sing  the  songs  at  fairs  and  church  festivals. 
The  anonymous  authorship  of  these  songs  may 
excite  surprise  among  a  people  of  bookish  training 
and  habits  like  ourselves.  It  will  be  readily  under- 
stood that  a  singer  knowing  some  fifty  of  the  bal- 
lads by  heart  can  without  great  difficulty  compose 
new  songs  on  any  passing  event  of  village  life, 
even  as  a  cultivated  gentleman,  well  versed  in  even 
one  of  Shakespeare's  plays,  can  find  fitting  quota- 
tions for  an  after-dinner  speech  on  any  imaginable 
topic.  Karajich  gives  an  example  of  such  a  jest- 
ing song  composed  upon  a  village  wedding.  Bal- 
lads of  this  t}rpe  have  no  value  in  themselves,  and 
disappear  from  memory  along  with  the  trifling 
event  that  occasioned  them.  But  "just  as  wag- 
gish old  men  and  youths  compose  these  jocose 
songs,  so  others  compose  serious  ballads  of  battles 
and  other  notable  events.  It  is  not  strange  that 
one  cannot  learn  who  first  composed  even  the  most 
recent  of  the  ballads,  to  say  nothing  of  the  older 
ones ;  but  it  is  strange  that  among  the  common 
people  nobody  regards  it  as  an  art  or  a  thing  to 
be  proud  of  to  compose  a  new  ballad;  and,  not  to 
speak  of  boasting  of  doing  so,  everyone,  even  the 
real  author,  refuses  to  acknowledge  the  ballad,  and 
i  Ibid. 


says  that  he  has  heard  it  from  another.  This  is 
true  of  the  most  recent  ballads,  of  which  it  is 
known  that  they  were  not  brought  from  elsewhere, 
but  arose  on  the  spot  from  an  event  of  a  few  days 
ago;  but  when  even  a  year  has  passed  since  the 
event  and  the  ballad,  or  when  a  ballad  is  heard  of 
an  event  of  yesterday,  but  of  a  distant  locality, 
no  one  even  thinks  of  asking  about  its  origin."  * 

A  few  words  are  due  the  memory  of  the  great 
collector  of  the  Servian  national  songs,  Vuk  Ste- 
fanovich  Karajich  (1787-1864),  from  whose  work 
all  but  one  of  the  ballads  in  the  present  volume 
have  been  translated.2  Born  of  a  peasant  family, 
under  Turkish  rule,  Vuk  early  learned  to  read  and 
write,  and  while  still  a  boy  served  as  a  scribe  to 
Black  George,  the  leader  of  the  Servian  revolt. 
Owing  to  an  illness  he  became  a  cripple  and  was 
restricted  to  a  bookish  career.  In  1813  he  became 
acquainted  in  Vienna  with  the  Slavic  scholar  Kopi- 
tar,  whose  attention  he  attracted  by  an  article 
written  in  the  living  Servian  language  instead  of 
the  artificial  ecclesiastical  dialect  then  current  in 
Servian  literature,  and  who  encouraged  him  to 

1  Ibid.    Acquaintance    with    these    simple    statements    by 
Karajich  as  to  conditions  with  which  he  was  familiar,  in  a 
country  where  ballads  are  still  a  living  force,  might  have 
saved    writers    on     English    balladry    from    much    empty 
theorizing.     Despite   the   prevailing   anonymity,  the   author- 
ship of  some  of  the  modern  ballads  is  known  with  reason- 
able certainty:   see  p.  225,  note. 

2  The  one  exception  is  the  ballad  How  Milosh  Killed  the 
Sultan  Murad,  which  is  from  a  small  volume,  Boj  no,  Kosovu, 
published  at  Allegheny,  Pennsylvania,  no  date. 

[10] 


undertake  the  gathering  of  popular  songs  and  bal- 
lads. In  1814-15  he  published  the  first  fruits  of 
his  labors,  a  small  collection  in  two  volumes ;  a 
second,  enlarged  edition  appeared  in  four  volumes, 
1824-33;  and  a  third  edition,  with  still  further 
additions,  followed  in  1841-66,  in  six  volumes,  of 
which  the  last  two  were  printed  posthumously. 
Finally  the  Servian  government  has  reissued  the 
great  work,  with  additions  from  Karajich's  manu- 
scripts, in  nine  volumes,  1891-1902,  containing, 
besides  two  volumes  of  folk-songs,  nearly  five  hun- 
dred ballads. 

Karajich  also  published  a  collection  of  popular 
tales  and  one  of  proverbs.  But  his  activity  as  a 
folk-lorist  was  only  one  side  of  his  labors.  In 
1814  he  published  the  first  edition  of  his  Servian 
Grammar,  and  in  1818  he  published  the  first  edi- 
tion of  his  Servian  Dictio-nary,  with  translations 
in  German  and  Latin,  which,  in  a  revised  form,  is 
still  a  standard  work.  He  prepared  a  translation 
of  the  New  Testament  into  the  living  speech  of 
the  people.  Finally,  not  to  speak  of  his  less  im- 
portant writings,  he  revised  on  a  phonetic  basis 
the  alphabet  and  spelling  of  his  native  language, 
and  his  system,  after  years  of  persecution,  partly 
owing  to  his  introduction  of  the  letter  j  from  the 
hated  "Catholic"  Latin  alphabet,  has  long  since 
been  adopted  as  the  Servian  official  orthography. 
Few  writers  of  books  have  had  so  great  an  influ- 
ence, or  an  influence  so  purely  beneficent,  on  the 
life  of  their  nation  as  had  Vuk  Stefanovich  Kara- 
jich. 


Some  explanation  is  needed  of  the  pronunciation 
of  the  Servian  proper  names.  No  simple  trans- 
literation can  correctly  indicate  the  native  pro- 
nunciation; that  here  adopted  seems  open  to  as 
few  .objections  as  any  other.  The  vowels  and 
diphthongs  should  be  given  their  regular  "conti- 
nental" values :  roughly,  father,  cafe,  machine, 
note,  rule,  aye,  bey,  6oy.  /  never  forms  a  diph- 
thong with  a  preceding  vowel:  V6-in,  Vd-i-sti-na. 
Y  is  always  either  a  consonant  or  the  second  ele- 
ment of  a  diphthong;  a  consonant  followed  by  y 
plus  a  vowel  forms  one  syllable  with  them:  Ne- 
ma-nya.  The  consonants  and  consonantal  di- 
graphs have  their  ordinary  English  sounds;  the 
following  are  apparently  all  in  regard  to  which 
there  could  be  ambiguity.  G  is  always  "hard,"  as 
in  gift;  j  is  pronounced  as  in  jelly,  the  j  of  the 
Servian  alphabet  being  here  rendered  by  y 
(Yug)  ;  s  is  always  surd,  as  in  soft,  passing;  z  and 
ch  are  pronounced  as  in  zebra  and  church,  not 
with  their  German  sounds ;  zh  represents  the  sound 
of  s  in  pleasure.  Ch  and  j,  it  should  be  added, 
each  transliterate  two  Servian  sounds,  only  one  of 
which  corresponds  to  the  English  value  of  the 
letter  used  for  it.  The  Servian  "vocalic  r,"  as  in 
Srja,  has  been  rendered  by  ri,  Srija.  C  has  not 
been  used  in  the  transliteration ;  thus,  Tsetinye 
(Cetinje).  The  accent  of  words  of  two  syllables 
is  always  on  the  first  syllable ;  on  words  of  three  or 
more  syllables  the  accent  is  always  marked.  No 
attempt  has  been  made  to  indicate  the  quantities 
of  the  Servian  vowels  or  the  secondary  accents. 


A  BALLAD  OF  SERVIA  BEFORE  THE 
TURKISH  CONQUEST 


THE  BUILDING  OF  SKADAR  l 

ONCE  there  were  three  born  brothers,  a  hold  that 

had  begun — 
The  three  sons  of  Marnyava.     Vukashin  the  king 

was  one, 
The  second  was  Voyvoda  Uglyesha,  and  Goyko  the 

third  was  he ; 
And   Skadar  on   the   Boyana  were  they  building 

busily. 

With  fifteen  score  of  masons  three  long  years  la- 
bored they, 
But  they   could  not  for  the   fortress  the  strong 

foundations  lay, 
Much  less  raise  up  the  wall  thereof,  for  what  was 

set  upright 
By  the  masons  in  the  morning,  a  vila  2  wrecked 

at  night. 
The  vila  called  from  the  mountain  in  the  spring 

of  the  fourth  year: 
"Plague   not  thyself,   Vukashin,   and   squander 

not  thy  gear! 
King,  thou  canst  not  for  the  fortress  the  strong 

foundation    lay, 

1  Scutari. 

2  "A    sort   of   nymph.    The    vilas   live   in    great    wooded 
mountains  and  in  craggy  places  around  lakes   and  rivers. 
A  vila  is   always  young  and  beautiful,  dressed  in  a  thin 
white   garment,  and   with  long  hair  flowing  over  her  back 
and  breast.     The  vilas  will  harm  no  one  so  long  as  no  one 
injures  them,  as  for  instance  by  intruding  on  their  dances 
or  feasts;  but  when  any  one  injures  them,  then  they  will 
punish  him  in  various  ways,  as  by  shooting  him  in  the  hand 
or  foot,  or  in  both  hands  or  both  feet,  or  in  the  heart,  in 
which  case  he  at  once  dies."     Karajich,  Servian  Dictionary. 

[15] 


Much  less  raise  up  the  wall  thereof,  until  upon  a 

day 
Come  news  of  Stoya  and  Stoyan,1  for  like  names 

have  the  twain; 

Sister  they  are  and  brother.     Into  the  wall  amain 
Shalt  thou  wall  them.     And  the  fortress  shall  be 

stablished  in  the  land." 
Vukashin    heard.     To    Desimir    he    issued    his 

command : 

"Desimir,  thou  wast  ever  a  faithful  knave  to  me, 
And  from  this  hour  onward  mine  own  son  shalt 

thou  be. 
Harness,  my  son,  the  horses  to  the  wains  in  the 

yard  below, 
And  take  six  packs  of  money,  and  over  the  white 

world  go. 
Do  thou  seek  for  Stoya  and  Stoyan,  for  like  names 

have  the  twain ; 
Brother  they  are  and  sister.     Buy  them  or  seize 

them  amain. 
Thou  shalt  bring  them  unto  Skadar  on  the  Boyana 

straightway, 
That  the  twain  in  the  foundation  of  the  tower  we 

may  lay, 

To  see  if  the  foundation  at  last  will  stay  or  stand, 

And  finally  the  fortress  be  stablished  in  the  land." 

Desimir  heard,  and  harnessed  the  steeds  to  the 

wains  below ; 

i  Stoyan  is  a  common  Servian  name  (cf.  p.  202),  of  which 
Stoya  (for  Stdyana)  is  the  feminine  diminutive.  But  stoyan 
is  also  an  adjective  meaning  stable,  enduring;  and  stoya  a 
noun  meaning  a  standing,  a  position;  both  are  from  the 
same  root  as  stoyati,  to  stand. 

[16] 


And  with  six  packs  of  money  o'er  the  white  world 
did  he  go. 

He  sought  for  Stoya  and'Stoyan,  for  like  names 
had  the  twain; 

For  three  full  years  he  sought  them,  and  aye  he 
sought  in  vain. 

To  Skadar  on  the  Boyana  at  last  he  took  the 
track ; 

To  the  king  he  gave  the  horses  and  the  wains  and 

money  back. 

"Here,  king,  are  thy  wains  and  horses,  and  thy 
money-bags  again, 

Since   I   found  not   Stoya  and   Stoyan — for  like 

names  have  the  twain." 

Vukashin   heard   it,   and   summoned   Rado   the 
builder  in, 

And  Rado  bade  three  hundred  men  their  labor  to 
begin. 

What  the  king  built,  wrecked  the  vila;  no  founda- 
tion could  he  lay, 

Much  less  raise  up  the  wall  thereof.     To  the  king 

then  did  she  say: 

"Plague   not  thyself,   Vukashin,   and   squander 
not  thy  gold ; 

Thou  canst  not  rear  a  single  pier,  much  less  the 
wall  of  the  hold. 

A  faithful  wife  hath  each  of  you,  ye  kingly  broth- 
ers born: 

Whose  wife  with  the  masons'  dinner  comes  to  Boy- 
ana  tomorn, 

Into  the  tower's  foundation  wall  her  then,  that  it 
mav  stand; 

£17] 


And  finally  the  fortress  shalt  thou  stablish  in  the 

land." 
When   King  Vukashin  heard   it,  he   called  his 

brethren  there: 
"Hear  ye  what  from  the  mountain  the  vila  doth 

declare ! 
In  no   way   get   we   vantage   by   squandering   the 

gold; 
She  will  not  let  rear  a  single  pier,  much  less  the 

wall  of  the  hold. 
She  saith  that  we  have  faithful  wives,  all  we  three 

brothers  born: 
Whose   wife   with   the   masons'    dinner   comes   to 

Boyana  tomorn, 
Into   the  tower's   foundation  we  must  build  her, 

that  it  stand; 
And  finally  the  fortress  shall  we  stablish  in  the 

land. 
Before  God  shall  we  not  pledge  it,  not  to  tell  our 

wives  at  home, 
And  leave  to  chance  whose  wife  tomorn  to  Boyana 

shall  come?" 
While  the  three  lords  were  pledging,  upon  them 

came  the  night, 
And  straightway  they  departed  unto  their  houses 

white. 
They  spent  the  lordly  evening,  and  went  each  man 

to  bed ; 
And — a  marvel ! — Vukashin  brake  the  pledge,  and 

told  the  wife  he  wed : 
"Hearest  thou,  my  dear  love  now,  that  troth 

to  me  hast  sworn ! 

[18] 


Go  not  thou  to  the  Boyana  with  the  masons'  din- 
ner tomorn. 
Thou  wilt  perish;  they  will  wall  thee  into  the  wall 

of  the  tower." 
Uglyesha  brake  it  also,  and  told  his  wife  in  that 

hour: 
"Be  not  deceived,  my  darling  wife,  that  troth 

to  me  hast  sworn ! 

Go  not  with  the  masons'  dinner  unto  Boyana  to- 
morn. 
Girl,  thou  wilt  die;  they  will  wall  thee  into  the 

wall  of  the  tower." 
But  Goyko  did  not  break  the  pledge,  nor  tell 

his  wife  in  that  hour. 
On  the  fair  morrow  early,  when  first  the  daybreak 

shone, 
The  children  of  Marnyava  to  the  Boyana  were 

gone. 
Time  came  the  dinner  to  carry,  and  the  turn  of 

the  queen  to  bear; 
She  went  to  the  wife  of  Uglyesha,  and  spake  unto 

her  there: 
"Hear,  and  good  health  to  thee,  sister!     My 

head  beginneth  to  ache ; 

I  cannot  conquer  it.     Prithee  the  meal  to  the  ma- 
sons take." 
"Good   health   to   thee,   queen,"    she    answered, 

"my  sister  that  is  so  dear! 
I    cannot   master  this   aching  arm.     Speak   thou 

to  our  sister  here." 

She  went  to  the  youngest  sister,  and  unto  her 
said  she: 

[19] 


"O  them  young  wife  of  Goyko,  do  thou  harken 

now  to  me! 
It  is  this — good  health  to  thee,  sister! — my  head 

beginneth  to  ache; 
I  cannot  conquer  the  pain.     Do  thou  the  meal  to 

the  masons  take." 
Goyko's   young  wife   gave   answer:     "I   would 

do  it  gladly,  O  queen; 
But  all  unbathed  is  my  little  child,  and  the  linen 

not  washed  clean." 
Answered    the    queen:     "With    the    dinner    to 

the  masons  do  thou  go. 
Let  our  sister  bathe  thy  baby ;  I  will  whiten  the 

linen  like  snow." 
Then  the  young  wife  of  Goyko  thereto  would 

say  no  more; 
Forthwith  unto  the  masons  their  midday  meal  she 

bore. 
By  Boyana  Goyko  saw  her,  and  sad  was  his  heart 

that    day, 
Sad   for  his  wife   and  the  little  lad  that  in  the 

cradle   lay, 
That  should  be  without  his  mother  ere  his  first 

month   was   told; 
And  down  upon  the  hero's  face  the  bitter  tears 

they  rolled. 
The  slender  girl  looked  on  him ;  gently  she  walked 

along, 
Until  she  was  come  to  Goyko,  and  she  spake  as 

soft  as  a  song: 
"What   aileth   thee,   Goyko,   that   on   thy    cheeks 

the  bitter  tears  have  rolled?" 
[20] 


He  answered: 

"Evil  it   is,   my   love!     I   had 

an  apple  of  gold, 
And  to-day  it  fell  into  Boyana,  and  woe  is  me 

this  day ! 
It  is  a  trouble  of  the  soul ;  this  grief  I  cannot 

slay." 
She  understood  not,  the  slender  girl;  unto  her 

lord  she  spake: 
"Pray  for  thine  health;  an  apple  far  better  shalt 

thou  make !" 
Then   was   he   grievously    sorry,   and   turned  his 

head    aside ; 
He  could  not  any  longer  bear  to  look  upon  his 

bride. 
But  the  two   sons  of  Marnyava  took  her  hands 

white  and  small, 
And  led  her  to  the  stronghold,  to  wall  her  in  the 

wall. 

They  made  to  Rado  the  builder  the  matter  mani- 
fest; 
She  laughs  at  his  three  hundred  men,  for  she  deems 

it  is  a  jest. 
They  brought  her  and  they  placed  her,  to  wall 

her  in  the  wall; 
And  the  three  hundred  masons  they  came  there 

one  and  all. 
With  stone  and  wood  they  walled  her  to  the  knees 

east  and  west, 
And    the    slender    girl    laughs    lightly,    deeming 

haply  they  jest. 

[ft] 


They  built  unto  her  girdle  with  the  heavy  wood 

and  stone. 

She  saw  what  was  come  on  her;  with  a  very  bit- 
ter groan, 

And  writhing  like  a  serpent,  she  prayed  her  breth- 
ren there: 
"An  you  trust  in  God,  wall  me  not  up,  so  tender 

and  so  fair." 
So  prayed  she.     They  looked  not  on  her;  no  way 

her  prayer  did  aid. 
But  she  overcame  disgrace  and  shame,  and  to  her 

lord  she  said: 
"Let  me  not  now,  my  dearest  lord,  be  walled 

up  in  the  hold, 
But  send  unto  my  mother,  that  hath  a  treasure 

of  gold, 
And  purchase  thou  a  slave  girl  with  her  money  in 

that  hour, 
And  wall  the  slave  girl  into  the  foundations  of 

the  tower." 
So  spake  the  slender  girl  in  vain;  the  prayer 

could  not  aid. 
When   she   found  no  help,   to  Rado,   the  master 

builder,  she  prayed: 
"For  my  bosom,  builder  Rado,  leave  a  space 

at  my  behest, 
That  Yovo  when  he  cometh  may  be  suckled  at  my 

breast." 
Rado,  the  master  builder,  was  well  pleased  with 

her  prayer, 
And  for  her  milk-white  bosom  he  left  a  window 

there, 

[22] 


With    the    white    bosom    outward.     He    did    her 

whole  behest, 
That  Yovo  might  be  suckled  when  he  came  unto 

her  breast. 
And  again   she   called   on  Rado,  the  builder,  in 

this  wise: 
"I  prithee,  brother  Rado,  leave  a  window  for 

mine  eyes, 
That  I  may  look  to  the  white  house,  and  easily 

may  see 
When  they  bring  Yovo  hither,  or  bear  him  back 

from  me." 
Rado,  the  master  builder,  was  well  pleased  with 

her  prayer; 
That  she  might  look  to  the  milk-white  house,  he 

left  a  window  there, 
And  see  the  child  when  they  brought  him  or  bore 

him  back  again. 
At  last  they  walled  her  in  the  wall  and  stablished 

the  hold  amain. 
They  brought  the  babe  in  the  cradle,  she  suckled 

him   from   the  stone ; 
For   seven  days   she   suckled  him ;  thereafter  her 

voice   was   gone. 
A  year  she  gave  the  young  child  suck,  and  sweet 

did  the  white  milk  flow. 

As  it  was  then  in  Skadar,  so  sweet  it  runneth  now. 
Yea,  even  to-day  the  white  milk  flows,  for  a  mir- 
acle most  high, 
And   a  healing   draught   for  women   whereof   the 

breasts  are  dry  ! * 

i  "They  say  that  even  now  from  the  windows  where  her 
[23] 


breasts  were  exposed  flows  a  certain  moisture,  which  collects 
below  the  wall  as  lime;  and  women  who  have  no  milk,  or 
whose  breasts  pain  them,  take  this  and  drink  it  in  water. 
Among  our  people  it  is  said  even  now  that  no  great  build- 
ing can  be  constructed  unless  some  person  be  walled  into 
it;  and  therefore  all  who  are  able  retire  from  such  places, 
since  it  is  said  that  even  a  person's  shadow  may  be  walled 
in,  and  he  afterwards  dies."  (Note  by  Karajich.) 


BALLADS  OF  KOSOVO  FIELD 


THE    BUILDING  OF  RAVANITSA 

To  celebrate  the  holy  tide,  Tsar  Lazarus  is  gone 
To    Krushevats,    the    fortress    of    many-colored 

stone ; 
To  the  birthfeast  of  St.  Amos  he  summons  all  the 

lords 

By  letter  and  salutation  that  with  their  rank  ac- 
cords ; 
And  all  the  lords  of  Servia  were  gathered  at  that 

place. 
He  set  them  at  the  tables,  by  greatness  and  by 

grace. 
At   the   head   of  the  good  table  the   good   Tsar 

Lazar  sat; 
The  lords  were  set  beside  him  to  drink  the  wine 

thereat ; 
And  they  spake  of  all  good  tidings  what  time  the 

wine  ran  free. 
Tsaritsa   Mflitsa   stepped    forth,   and   through 

the  hall  came  she. 
Girded  was  she  with  girdles  nine,  nine  chains  her 

neck  did  fold, 
Nine  pendants  hung  about  her  brows   from  the 

coronet  of  gold, 
And  the  three  summits  of  the  crown  were  set  with 

a  precious  stone 
That  shone  by  night  as  broad  and  bright  as  in 

the  day  the  sun. 
And  she  spoke  to  the  glorious  Lazarus : 

"Abashed 

am  I  to-day 


Only   to  look   on   thee,   Lazarus;   and   more   this 

word   to   say — 
I  cannot  help  it,  I  must  speak  forth.     Nemanya's 

sons  of  old, 
They  were  our  tsars  in  word  and  deed,  and  all 

their  days  are  told. 
They  heaped  not  treasure  up  in  hills,  but  to  God 

reared  many   a   fane ; 

They  builded  their  good  monasteries  on  the  moun- 
tain and  the  plain ; 
They     reared     o'er    Jakovitsa     Dechani     on     the 

height, 
The    Patriarch's    Place    at    level    Pech,1    and    in 

Drenitsa  the  white 
Did  they  raise  the  Devich;  near  Pazar  St.  Peter's 

Church  they  set, 
And  the  great  Pillars  of  St.  George  on  the  mount, 

higher  yet; 

They  builded  Sopochani  over  the  Rashka  cold, 
And  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Anne  they  wrought  in 

Vlah  the  Old ; 
Studenitsa  'neath  Brivenik;  'neath  Yadovnik,  St. 

Paul; 
O'er  Karanovats  the  fair  church  that  Zhicha  men 

do  call; 
The  Chapel  of  Good  Friday  on  Prizrend  did  they 

bestow ; 

And  they  reared  Grachanitsa  on  level  Kosovo. 
All  these  are  their  foundations.     In  their  place 

thou  reignest  now; 
i  Ipek. 

[28] 


No  churches  hast  thou  founded,  yet  a  treasure  of 

gold  hast  thou. 
The   treasure   availeth  nothing  to   help   us   or  to 

heal; 
Neither  for  soul  or  body  will  treasure  work  our 

weal." 
Then  rose  up  Lazar  the  glorious: 

"My   great 

lords,  harken  ye 
What    saith    my    queen,    that   nowhere    a    church 

builded  have  we! 

Ravanitsa  in  Resava  by  the  Ravan  will  I  rear, 
For  treasure  in  my  treasuries  whate'er  I  need  is 

here. 
Leaden  shall  be  the  corner  stones,  and  the  walls  of 

silver  white ; 
I  will  cover  the  walls  of  it  with  the  gold  burnished 

bright. 
And  moreover,  by   God's  mercy,  shall  pearls  be 

set  thereon, 
And  the  gateways  of  the  chapels  shall  glow  with 

precious  stone." 
The    Servian    lords    rose    lightly;    they    bowed 

down  one  and  all: 
"Build  for  the  sake  of  thine  own  soul  and  the  health 

of  Stevan  the  Tall."  1 
But  Milosh  Obilich  sat  there  at  the  table  foot  to 

dine, 

i  "The  popular  name  of  the  son  of  Prince  Lazar,  who 
ruled  after  the  battle  of  K6sovo,  and  who  built  the  monas- 
tery of  Manasiya."  Kardjich,  Servian  Dictionary. 

£29] 


And  naught  he  said;  and  Lazar  saw,  and  pledged 

him  in  the  wine: 
"Hail  to  thee,  Milosh  the  voyvoda !     What  then 

to  me  wilt  thou  say? 
For  I  think  to  build  to  our  Lord  God  a  mighty 

church  this  day." 
Milosh  rose   up  and  doffed  the   cap   with  the 

plumes  and  sable  fine, 
And  he  made  obeisance  to  the  tsar,  and  they  gave 

him  the  cup  of  wine. 
Milosh  took  up  the  golden  cup,  and  gave  his  health 

again : 
"Glory  to  thee,  prince,  for  thy  speech,  but  for 

building  of  the  fane — 
This  is  no  time  for  building.     In  faith,  it  cannot 

be! 
My  lord,  but  look  in  the  ancient  book  what  it  shall 

say  to  thee. 

The  last  hour  is  upon  us ;  swift  it  cometh  apace. 
The  Turks  will  take  the  kingdom  and  rule  it  in 

our  place. 
They  will  sack  church  and  convent,  and  Ravanitsa 

likewise. 
The  foundations  of  Ravanitsa,  they  will  dig  them 

for  a  prize, 
And  melt  them  into  cannon  balls,  to  beat  and  batter 

down 
The  bulwarks  of  our  churches  and  the  rampart  of 

the  town. 
For  trappings  the  white  silver  walls  shall  be  molten 

in  the  flames; 

[30] 


They  will  overthrow  the  church  roof  for  necklets 

for  their  dames ; 
For  these  same  necklaces,  I  wot,  they  will  wrench 

away  the  pearls; 
For  their  sword  hilts  will  they  take  the  gems,  and 

for  rings  for  Turkish  girls. 
But  hark  to  me,  Tsar  Lazar!     Let  us  quarry  out 

the  stone 
And  build  a  church  of  marble.     For  the  Turks 

will  seize  the  throne, 
And  our  church  shall  serve  forever,  unto  God's 

Judgment  Day ! 

There  is  no  profit  in  the  stone,  to  carry  it  away." 
Then  spake  the  great  Tsar  Lazarus,  when  he 

that  speech  had  heard: 
"Now  glory  to  thee,  Milosh,  for  truth  is  in  thy 

word !" 


[31] 


BAN  STRAHIN 

STRAHIN  was  ban  of  Banska  that  by  Kosovo  doth 

stand ; 

And  such  another  falcon  there  is  not  in  the  land. 
He  rose  up  in  the  morning: 

"Ho,  all  my  knaves, 

give  heed! 
Get  ye  down  to  the   stables   and  saddle  me  my 

steed. 
Deck  him  out  fair  and  seemly,  and  gird  him  with 

the  girth; 
For  hark  and  hear  me,  gallants,  I  go  roving  o'er 

the  earth. 
Weary  shall  be  the  milk-white  steed,  before  I  shall 

alight 
Where  dwell  my  wife's  good  kindred  in  Krushevats 

the  white — 
Her  brave  old  father  Yug  Bogdan  and  her  good 

brothers   nine, 
Her  gallant  kin  shall  take  me  in  and  cheer  me 

with  the  wine." 
Then  forthwith  all  the  servants  unto  the  ban 

gave  heed, 
And  from  the  lordly  stable  led  the  white  falcon 

steed. 
And  then  the  brave  Ban  Strahin  himself  the  steed 

arrayed ; 

He  set  on  him  a  saddle  of  velvet  and  brocade, 
Redder  than  sunset  water,  more  shining  than  the 

sun! 

[32] 


So  the  good  ban  put  on  the  steed  that  rich  capari- 
son. 

So  rode  he  forth  that  morning,  nor  ever  did  alight 
Till  he  came  in  to  his  wife's  kin  in  Krushevats  the 

white, 
Where  late  the  realm  men  stablished.     And  him 

Yug  Bogdan  saw, 
And  with  his  nine  gray  hawks  came  on  to  greet 

his  son-in-law. 
They  waited  little  for  him,  but  clasped  him  one 

and  all; 
And    while    the    servants    took    the    steed,    they 

brought  the  ban  to  hall. 
Down   sat  they   at  the   ready   board,  and   spake 

fair  words  and  fine; 
And  man  and  maid  came  in  apace  to  serve  or  pour 

the  wine. 

Then  all  those  goodly  Christians  their  thirst  be- 
gan to  quench; 
Yug  Bogdan  set  Ban  Strahin  beside  him  on  the 

bench; 
Upon  his  right  he  set  him,  his  sons  on  the  other 

hand; 
But  the  remnant  of  his  people  at  the  table-foot 

must  stand. 
The  servants  served  before  them.     Nine  daughters 

had  that  lord, 
And  each  fair  daughter  in  her  turn  served  deftly 

at  the  board. 
They  served  before  their  father;  they  served  their 

lords  that  tide ; 

£33] 


But  most  of  all  Ban  Strahin,  for  their  sister  was 

his  bride. 
One  servant  stood  before  them  to  serve  the  red 

wine  up; 
In  a  gold  cup  he  measured  it — nine  measures  held 

that  cup. 
Much  courtesy  was  there  to  see  and  guests  from 

near  and  far; 
Brothers  as  many  came  as  to  a  banquet  of  the 

tsar. 
Long  was  Ban  Strahin's  tarrying;  long,  long  did 

he  abide, 
Dwelling  among  his  wife  her  kin  in  pleasure  and 

in  pride. 
The  guests   that  were  in  Krushevats   a  bitter 

cry  they  made, 
And  came  to  old  Yug  Bogdan  and  unto  him  they 

prayed : 
"We  kiss   thy   silken   garments,   thou   art   our 

lord  and  chief; 

We  therefore  pray  thy  kindness  to  do  us  this  re- 
lief. 
Bring  Strahin  thy  good  son-in-law  to  our  castles 

and  our  courts, 
That  we  may  do  him  honor  as  with  his  worth 

consorts." 
Before  that  mirth  was  over  was  long  enough, 

I  trow. 
Long  the  ban  tarried,  ere  came  forth  the  tidings 

of  his  woe. 
But  lo,  in  the  fair  morning,  when  the  warm  sun 

beat  down, 

[34] 


A  lad  bore  a  white  letter  from  Banska,  the  little 

town — 
Tidings  from  his  old  mother!     He  set  it  on  his 

knee; 
Therein   was   many   a  bitter  and   dreadful  thing 

to  see, 
For    there    her    curse    is   written   most    plain    in 

Strahin's  sight: 
"Where  art  thou,  son?     Foul  fall  the  wine  in 

Krushevats  the  white! 
Evil  is  the  wine  and  full  of  shame  for  thee  and 

thy  wife's  kin. 
Behold  what  woes  against  thee  are  written  down 

herein ! 
From  Yedren  l  with  an  army  is  come  the  Turkish 

tsar 
To  Kosovo,  and  his  viziers  are  with  him  in  the 

war; 
And    he    hath    taken    Kosovo    with    his    accurst 

viziers. 
The  whole  strength  hath  he  brought  along  of  all 

the  Turkish  spears; 
Along  the  land  of  Kosovo  hath  he  ta'en  either 

flood- 
Lab  and  Sitnitsa  onward  from  the  marble  to  the 

wood, 
From  the  maple  dry  to  Sazliya  bridged  over  by 

the  arch, 
Through  Zvechan  and  Chechan  to  the  wood  round 

Kosovo  they  march, 
i  Adrianople. 

[35] 


The  valley  of  their  capture;  thereto  they  haste 

along. 

And  the  tsar  hath  one  army   an  hundred  thou- 
sand strong, 
That  one  lone  lord  hath  lent  him  who  hath  a  fief 

of  the  tsar. 
Many  lords  eat  of  the  tsar's  bread,  and  ride  his 

steeds  of  war. 
Few  arms  those  chieftains  carry ;  nay,  but  a  single 

blade ! 

And  yet  another  army  is  for  the  tsar  arrayed — 
The  Turks  and  janissaries  in  Yedren's  milk-white 

tower ; 
And  yet  an  hundred  thousand  they  say  are  in  that 

power. 
Tuk  and  Manjuk  an  army  for  the  tsar  lead  as 

well, 
And  death  is  in  their  onslaught  and  slaughter  in 

their  yell. 
But  yet  there  is  one  army  of  all  from  far  and 

near — 
Vlah    Aliya's,    that    feareth    not    for    sultan    nor 

vizier, 
Nor  all  within  the  armies  save  as  ants  upon  the 

hill. 
"Such   is   the   Turkish   battle,   nor  departs   he 

without  ill. 
He  smote  on  little  Banska;  by  the  left-hand  way 

he  came; 
He  stormed  the  hold  of  Banska,  and  burned  it 

with  the  flame. 

[36] 


He  hath  overturned  the  lowest  stone;  thy  servants 

fled  perforce; 
And  o'er  thy  mother's  body  hath  he  ridden  on  his 

horse ; 
With    thy     wife    upon    his    saddlebow    through 

Kosovo  he  went, 
And  he  kisses  thy  beloved  in  the  shadow  of  his 

tent. 

And  I  above  burned  ruins  bewail  this  fate  of  mine, 
While    thou    drink'st    wine    in    Krushevats.     God 

send  'tis  Death  his  wine!" 
When  the  ban  read  the  letter,  Grief  took  him 

in  her  grip ; 
Down  drooped  upon  his  shoulder  the  black  beard 

of  his  lip ; 
He  ground  his  teeth  together,  and  was  very  nigh 

to  weep; 
And  old  Yug  Bogdan  saw  him,  as  he  rose  up  from 

his  sleep. 
Yug's  voice  flashed  up  like  fire ;  he  spake  after  this 

wise: 
"God  help  my  son !  and  wherefore  dost  thou  so 

soon  arise? 
And  wherefore  art  thou  troubled,  good  son-in-law 

of  mine? 
Have  thy  brave  brothers  laughed  at  thee  or  mocked 

thee  at  the  wine? 
Have  not  thy  sisters  served  thee?     Is  there  evil 

among  thy  kin? 
Tell  me,  my  son,  and  straightway:  what  shame  is 

found  herein?" 

£37] 


The  ban  flashed  up  before  him  and  to  his  father 

said: 
"Father,  I  find  no  fault  at  all  in  the  kin  of  her 

I  wed, 
And  my  good  brothers  with  me  deal  pleasantly 

withal ; 
The  noble  ladies  speak  me  fair  and  serve  me  in  the 

hall: 
Among  my  wife's  good  kindred  no  fault  at  all  doth 

stand. 
My  mother  out  of  Banska  sends  this  letter  to  my 

hand." 

He  tells  unto  his  father  in  the  fair  morning-tide 
How  all  of  his  possession  is  wasted  far  and  wide; 
How  that  the  Turks  have  scattered  his  servants, 

knight  and  knave, 
And  trampled  on  his  mother,  and  his  wife  ta'en  for 

a  slave: 
"And  O  thou  old  Yug  Bogdan,  if  she  be  dear  to 

me, 
Also  she  is  thy  daughter  and  shame  to  me  and 

thee! 

And  if  thou  ever  thoughtest  a  gift  to  me  to  give, 
Give  it  not  after  I  am  dead,  but  now  while  yet  I 

live. 

I  pray  thee  and  I  kiss  thy  hand :  give  me  thy  chil- 
dren nine, 
And  we   will  go  to   Kosovo  to  seek  this   foe  of 

mine — 
Yea,  this  red  traitor  to  the  tsar,  that  hath  enslaved 

my  wife. 

Be  not  afraid,  my  father,  nor  sorrow  for  their  life ; 
[38] 


They  shall  wear  Turkish  raiment,  turbans  as  white 

as  milk 
And  good  green  mantles,  and  also  broad  trousers 

wrought  of  silk. 

And  at  the  belt  long  sabers  as  flashing  as  a  flame. 
And  I  will  call  my  servants,  and  order  them  by 

name, 

To  saddle  up  the  horses  and  draw  the  saddlebelts, 
And  cover  o'er  the  horses  with  the  strong  black 

bear-pelts. 
Strong  janissaries  shall  they  be;  my  counsel  shall 

they  know, 
What  time  through  the  tsar's   army  we  ride  in 

Kosovo. 
And  I  will  be  their  captain,  who  have  their  sister 

wed, 
That  they  may  heed  my  counsel,  and  have  it  still 

in  dread. 
And  if  a  soldier  of  the  tsar  shall  challenge  us  in 

speech, 
Turkish,  mayhap,  or  Arabic;  why,  I  can  speak  in 

each, 
And  Manov  too,  and  Arnaut,  enough  to  serve  that 

tide. 
To  seek  my  foe  through  Kosovo,  so  lightly  will  we 

ride — 
This  Turk  Vlah  Aliya  that  enslaved  my  love  by 

might  and  main. 
For  though  alone  among  the  Turks  I  might  perish 

or  be  ta'en, 
My  brethren  and  I,  we  shall  not  die  nor  be  smitten 

down  in  vain !" 

[39] 


When  old  Yug  Bogdan  heard  this,  he  flashed 

like  living  fire ; 
He  spake  unto  Ban  Strahin  in  words  of  wrath  and 

ire: 
"O  thou,  my  son  Ban  Strahin,  witless  art  thou 

and  rash ! 
Wilt  thou  lead  my  sons  to  Kosovo  for  these  same 

Turks  to  slash? 
Say  nothing  more,  my  son-in-law !     My  sons  shall 

not  be  slain, 
Though  thy  fair  wife,  my  daughter,  come  never 

home  again. 
Nay,  nevermore,  Ban  Strahin,  unloose  thy  wrath 

at  me, 
For  wit  thou  well,  my  son-in-law — may  the  plague 

light  on  thee ! — 
If  she  have  been  his  paramour  but  one  night  in 

the  tent, 

So  may  she  be  no  longer  the  bride  of  thy  content ; 
God  hath  slain  her  forever;  accursed  shall  she  be! 
And  a  worse  thing,  Ban  Strahin,  him  she  prefers 

to  thee. 
Go  to!     The  Devil  take  her!     And  for  this  love 

of  thine 
I  will  give  thee  a  better,  and  with  thee  drink  the 

wine. 
I  will  be  thy  friend  forever,  but  my  children  shall 

not  go 
Riding    amain    across    the    plain    with    thee    to 

Kosovo !" 
But  when  Ban  Strahin  heard  it,  he  flashed  like 

living  fire; 

[40] 


Answered  the  ban  to  the  old  man  in  agony  and 

ire. 
He  will  not  call  a  servant;  for  a  groom  he  takes 

not  heed, 
But  goeth  himself  to  the  stable  to  saddle  the  white 

steed. 
How    royally   he    saddled    him !    how    girded   him 

thereto ! 
How  over  flashing  ear  and  crest  the  bit  and  bridle 

drew! 
Before  the  gateway  of  the  court  he  led  him  forth 

alone, 

And  held  him  by  the  bridle  near  the  white  step- 
ping-stone. 
And   he   caught   the   steed   by   the   shoulder  and 

mounted  with  a  bound, 
And   looked   upon   his   brethren,  but  they   looked 

upon  the  ground. 
Upon  his  sister's  husband  Ban  Strahin  turned  his 

eyes, 
But  Nemanyich  looked  downward  at  the  black  dust 

likewise. 
They  had   drunken   wine   and  brandy   enough  to 

make  one  nod, 
And  boasted  that  they  were  heroes,  and  sworn  by 

the  name  of  God: 
"We  love  thee,  thou  Ban  Strahin,  more  than  the 

tsar's  whole  land." 
But  woe !  the  ban  has  never  a  man  this  day  his 

friend  to  stand. 
It  is  no  easy  labor  to  Kosovo  to  wend; 


And  the  ban  looked  about  him  and  saw  he  had  no 

friend. 
He  rode  down  through  white  Krushevats,  but  aye 

he  looked  behind 
To  see  if  his  brave  brethren  would  alter  in  their 

mind, 
And  pity  his   affliction.     No  friend  came  to  the 

ban. 

And  thereupon  he  minded  him  of  the  hound  Kara- 
man,1 
Whom  he  loves  better  than  the  steed,  and  holds  of 

richer  worth, 
And    loudly    from    the    strong    white    throat    the 

hound-call  thunders  forth. 
The  hound  lay  in  the  stable,  but  harkened  and 

gave  heed, 
And  swiftly  in  the  field  he  ran,  till  he  overtook  the 

steed. 

And  gay  beside  the  milk-white  steed  the  hound  re- 
joicing springs, 
And  on  his  neck  the  collar  of  corded  goldwork 

rings. 
A  pleasant  thing  it  was ;  the  ban  rode  glad  on  the 

stallion's  back, 
And  took  by  weald  and  mount  and  field  to  Kosovo 

the  track. 
When  he  saw  the  host  at  Kosovo  his  heart  was 

touched  by  fear, 
But  he  remembered  the  true  God,  and  to  the  Turks 

drew  near. 

Over  the  field  of  Kosovo  on  all  four  sides  he  went, 
i  In  Servian  this  word  is  accented  on  the  second  syllable. 

[42] 


Seeking  the  strong  Vlah  Aliya,  but  he  could  not 

find  his  tent. 
By  the  waters  of  the  Sftnitsa  a  marvel  there  waa 

seen, 
By  the  shore  of  the  Sitnitsa  was  pitched  a  tent  of 

green. 
The  tent  of  green  was  very  fair ;  it  hid  the  grassy 

lawn, 
The  golden  apple  on  the  pole  shone  brighter  than 

the  dawn. 
A  spear  is  set  before  the  door,  and  by  the  spear  a 

steed, 
With  his  head  deep  in  the  nose-bag  upon  the  oats 

to  feed. 
The  steed  pawed  fierce  upon  the  ground  with  the 

off  hoof  and  the  near, 
And     the     ban     thought     unto     himself:     "Vlah 

Aliya's  tent  is  here." 
And  forward  rode  the  hero  upon  the  milk-white 

steed ; 
He  took  his  spear  from  shoulder,  all  ready  to  his 

need. 
He  threw  the  tent  door  open,  and  looked  within  the 

tent; 

But  it  was  not  Vlah  Aliya,  the  strong  and  insolent ; 
But  a  dervish,  to  whose  girdle  the  white  beard 

sweeps  from  the  chin, 
Lies  in  the  shadow  of  the  tent,  and  no  one  else 

therein. 
A  luckless  dervish  is  the  Turk,  but  he  drinks  wine 

in  a  cup; 

[43] 


He  pours  the  wine  out  for  himself  and  forthwith 

drinks  it  up. 
Ban  Strahin  looked  on  the  dervish  that  was  bloody 

to  the  eyes, 

And  made  salam  unto  him,  after  the  Turkish  wise. 
The  drunken  Turk  looked  on  him,  and  spoke  a 

word  of  woe: 
"Hail  to  thee,  brave  Ban  Strahin  of  Banska  by 

Kosovo !" 
Now  flashed  up  the  Ban  Strahin,  and  answered  him 

in  dread ; 

In  the  fair-spoken  Turkish  a  bitter  word  he  said: 
"Foul  fall  thy  mother,  thou  dervish,  that  drink- 

est  here  this  hour! 
Thou  art  so  drunk  thou  canst  not  tell  a  Moslem 

from  a  Giaour. 
Wherefore  dost  thou  speak  of  him?  for  here  is 

found  no  ban ; 
There  is  none  here  but  I,  and  I  am  the  tsar's  true 

fighting  man. 
All  of  the  tsar's  good  horses  are  scattered  near 

and  far, 
And  the  warriors  run  quickly  to  catch  them  for  the 

tsar. 
If  I  go  with  this  thy  insult  to  the  tsar  and  the 

vizier, 
Know  well,  thou  sorry  dervish,  thy  words  shall  cost 

thee  dear." 
Laughed  the  dervish : 

"Thou  a  Turk,  Strahin? 

Good  fortune  go  with  thee! 

[44] 


Were   I  upon   Mount  Golech,   and  should  haply 

chance  to  see 
Thee  afar  in  the  host  of  the  tsar,  well  I  should 

know  thee,  ban — 
Thee  and  that  milk-white  steed  of  thine,  and  the 

hound  Karaman, 

Whom  aye  thou  lovest  better  than  the  strong  stal- 
lion white. 
And  know,  thou  ban  of  Banska,  I  read  thy  brow 

aright. 
And  I  know  the  eyes  thereunder  and  the  black 

beard  of  thy  lip. 

Know,  ban — and  may  good  fortune  be  of  thy  fel- 
lowship ! — 
That  when  thy  guardsmen  took  me  and  made  of 

me  a  slave, 
To  thee  in  Suhara  of  the  mount  me  miserable  they 

gave. 
To  the  bottom  of  that  prison  didst  thou  cast  me  at 

that  tide, 
And  there  a  slave  to  thine  and  thee  nine  years  did 

I  abide. 
Nine  fearful  years  past  over,  yea!  and  the  tenth 

began, 
When  filled  with  deep  compassion  thou  thoughtest 

on  me,  ban. 
Thou  badest  Rado,  the  jailer,  unbar  the  doors 

withal, 
And  forthwith  bring  me  upward  a  captive  to  the 

hall. 
And  dost  thou  know,  Ban  Strahin,  what  words  thy 

fierce  lips  said: 

[45] 


"  'Slave !     Turkish    snake !     Now    would    that 

thou  within  my  hold  wert  dead! 
Canst  thou  then,  like  a  hero,  redeem  thee  with  a 

fee?' 
"So  ran   thy  question  to  me,   and  I  told  the 

truth  to  thee: 
"  'My  life  now  could  I  ransom,  could  I  come  to 

my  hall, 
To  my  father's  land  and  my  birthplace  and  my 

fiefs  one  and  all — 

My  many  farms  and  freeholds,  the  price  of  lib- 
erty. 
But  thither  to  go,  too  well  I  know,  hardly  thou 

trustest  me. 
I  will  give  thee  a  good  bondsman,  even  God  who 

does  not  feign, 
And  another  bondsman,  his  good  faith,  that  I  bring 

that  ransom  again.' 
"Thou  gavest  thy  trust  to  me  that  tide  to  go  to 

my  white  hall, 
To  my  father's  land  and  my  birthplace,  and  my 

fiefs  one  and  all. 
I  came  to  my  sad  birthplace ;  no  more  I  knew  good 

luck; 
On  my  houses  and  my  birthplace  the  pestilence  had 

struck. 
It  smote  the  men  and  women;  in  my  houses  none 

had  stayed, 
And  my  whole  house  had  perished  and  my  whole 

possession  strayed. 
Fast-barred  was  all  my  sire's  estate,  and  bolted 

was  the  door. 

[46] 


The  Turks  took  farm  and  freehold  for  their  own 

forevermore. 
And  when  I  saw  my  houses  all  closed  against  me 

stand, 
That  I  had  neither  friend  nor  goods,  then  a  good 

plan  I  planned. 
I  rode  post  unto  Yedren,  to  the  vizier  and  the 

tsar, 

And  the  vizier  boasted  me  for  a  hero  in  the  war. 
The  tsar's  vizier  clothed  me  and  gave  a  tent  to 

me, 

And  the  great  raven  charger  and  shining  panoply. 
For  the  tsar's  man  forever  in  his  book  my  name 

they  set, 
And  thou  hast  come  to  me  to-day  to  claim  of  me 

thy  debt. 
But,  ban,  I  have  not  a  penny ;  and  woe  is  on  thee 

this  day, 
That  thou  comest  to  die  in  folly  amidst  the  tsar's 

array." 
The  ban  looked  on  the  dervish.     Forthwith  the 

man  he  knew; 
From  the  steed  he  vaulted,  and  clasped  him,  and 

to  his  bosom  drew: 
"Brother  in  God,  old  dervish,  no  debt  is  due  to 

me. 

I  seek  no  money,  brother,  nor  any  ransom  fee. 
I  seek  the  strong  Vlah  Aliya,  who  hath  overthrown 

my  hall, 
And  hath  taken  my  beloved  to  be  his  bounden 

thrall. 


Tell  me  of  him,  thou  dervish,  and  do  not  me  be- 
tray 

Unto  the  Turkish  army,  who  are  yearning  me  to 

slay." 

"By  God,"  then  said  the  dervish,  "thou  ban, 
thou  falcon-one, 

The  strength  of  this  my  faith  to  thee  is  firmer  than 
the  stone. 

Shouldst  thou  with  the  sword's  edges  smite  half 
the  army  dead, 

Yet  would  I  not  betray  thee,  nor  trample  on  thy 
bread. 

Though  I  ate  of  it  in  prison,  thou  gavest  me  store 
of  wine; 

Thou  gavest  the  milk-white  loaves  to  me  that  I 
might  freely  dine; 

Oft  in  the  sun's  light  glorious  I  warmed  me  in  the 
morn; 

Thou  didst  set  me  free  upon  my  word,  wherein  I 
am  forsworn. 

I  could  not  keep  my  word  to  thee,  returning  to 
thy  hall: 

Faith  it  was  hard  for  me  to  keep  without  the  where- 
withal ! 

And  for  the  Turk,  Ban  Strahin,  Vlah  Aliya  in- 
solent— 

On  the  high  mount  of  Golech  he  pitches  now  his 
tent. 

But,  Strahin,  go  from  Kosovo,  or  a  fool's  death 
diest  thou  here. 

Trust  not  thy  hand,  nor  the  sharp  brand,  nor  the 
venom  of  the  spear. 
[48] 


To  pass  that  Turk  in  the  mountain,  it  is  a  hero's 

deed; 
In  his  arms  alive  will  he  take  thee,  thy  weapons 

and  thy  steed. 
He  will  break  thine  arms  asunder;  he  will  blind 

thee  living,  O  ban." 

Laughed  Strahin:     "Dervish,  pity  me  not  be- 
cause of  any  man, 

But  to  the  Turkish  army  betray  me  not  this  tide." 
And  thereupon  the  dervish  unto  the  ban  replied : 
"My  faith  is  firmer  than  the  stone,  and  plighted 

thee  indeed. 
For  even  shouldst  thou  madden  the  anger  of  thy 

steed, 
And  riding  on  the  army  the  half  thereof  shouldst 

slay, 

Yet  I  will  not  at  any  time  thee  to  the  Turks  be- 
tray." 
The  ban  spoke  and  departed,  but  he  turned  01 

the  stallion  white: 
"Dervish,  thou  waterest  thy  steed  at  daybrealj 

and  at  night 
In  the  waters  of  Sitnitsa.     Say  where  the  fords 

are  found — 
The  fords  in  the  cool  water — that  my  horse  may 

not  be  drowned." 
Said  the  dervish:     "Thou  Servian  falcon,  a  ford 

shalt  thou  find  indeed, 
Where'er  thou  enterest  the  water,  for  thy  valor 

and  thy  steed." 

The  ban  forded  that  water;  on  the  milk-white 
steed  he  sped 

[49] 


Over  the  mount  of  Golech  with  the  great  sun  over- 
head. 
It  warms  all  things  beneath  it,  both  the  near  and 

the  far, 
And  it  shines  down  on  K6sovo  and  the  army  of 

the  tsar. 

And  now  behold  Vlah  Aliya,  the  strong  and  in- 
solent, 
Ban  Strahin's  bride  that  kisses  in  the  shadow  of 

the  tent. 

He  hath  an  evil  custom,  for  ever  does  he  fall 
In  slumber  of  a  morning,  when  the  sun  beats  over 

all. 
He  dreamed  a  dream  upon  that  tide,  and  heavy 

lay  his  head 
On  the  breast  of  the  beloved  that  Strahinya  had 

wed. 
At  the  tent  door  she  fondled  him,  but  her  eyes 

went  to  and  fro 

Over  the  Turkish  army  on  the  field  of  Kosovo. 
She  sees  what  manner  are  the  tents,  what  steeds 

the  heroes  ride, 
And  by  mischance  towards  Golech  she  turned  her 

eyes  aside. 
She  slapped  the  Turk  on  the  right  cheek;  and, 

"Master,"  did  she  cry, 
"Rise  up,  Vlah  Aliya!  stir  thyself!  or  forthwith 

mayst  thou  die! 
Now  belt  thou  on  thy  war-belt  and  thy  fair  mail 

likewise ! 
Ban  Strahin  comes  that  will  cut  off  thine  head,  or 

blind  thine  eyes." 

[50] 


Vlah  Aliya  wakened  from  his  dream  and  flashed 

up  like  the  fire; 
His   eye   was   proud,   he   laughed   aloud: 

"Thou 

Strahinya's  desire, 
Thou  art  afraid,  Wallachian  maid;  thou  fearest 

him  eachwhere! 
When  I  bear  thee  unto  Yedren,  yet  wilt  thou  see 

him  there! 
Yon  captain  is  not  Strahin;  a  tsar's  man  rideth 

here: 
Either  the  tsar  hath  sent  him,  or  Mehmet,  the 

vizier. 
He  bids  that  I  submit  me,  nor  smite  the  host  of 

the  tsar. 
Tsar   and  vizier,  mayhap   they   fear  to   feel  my 

scimitar. 
Fear  not,  what  time  I  smite  him  with  the  keen, 

shining  sword 
That  no  more  captains  of  the  tsar  come  hither  for 

their  lord." 
But  the  ban's  bride  spake  unto  him : 

"My  mas- 
ter, prithee  see! 
That  is  no  Turkish  captain — a  blindness  light  on 

thee!— 
Nay,  but  my  master  Strahin,  that  did  my  body 

clip. 
Do  I  not  know  both  eye  and  brow  and  the  black 

beard  of  his  lip? 
Do  I  not  know  his  milk-white  horse  with  the  spot 

of  brown  and  tan, 
[51] 


And  the  tawny  hound  beside  him,  the  good  hound 

Karaman  ? 
Jest  not  with  life,  my  gallant  lord." 

But  when 

Vlah  Aliya  heard, 
The  wrathful  Turk  leaped  to  his  feet  and  straight 

began  to  gird 
His   girdle  with   the  poniards   and   the   scimitar 

thereto. 
And  he  giveth  heed  to  the  black  steed,  while  the 

ban  nearer  drew. 
The  ban  is  very  careful,  but  he  cursed  him,  nor 

bowed  his  head 

After  the  Turkish  fashion ;  and  unto  him  he  said : 
"Art    thou    then    there,    thou    dastard — thou 

traitor  to  the  tsar? 
Whose   women   hast  thou  taken   that   round  thy 

camp-fires  are? 
And  whose  beloved  hast  thou  kist  in  the  shadow 

of  the  tent? 
Come  out  to  battle  against  me,  thou  strong  and 

insolent." 
The  Turk  was  very  angry.     He  sprang  with 

might  and  main 
Unto  the  shoulder  of  the  horse,  and  caught  the 

bridle-rein. 
The  ban  bode  not  his  coming,  but  straight  against 

him  drove; 
He  lifted  the  iron  spear  on  high,  and  hurled  it 

from  above. 
And  the  strong  Turk,  Vlah  Aliya,  reached  out  and 

caught  the  spear, 

[62] 


And  he  .spake  unto  Strahin : 

"Dastard,  what  dost 

thou  here? 
Here  are  no  maids  of  Shumadin  to  scatter  with  a 

cry, 

But  who  fears  not  vizier  or  tsar,  Vlah  Aliya  am  I ! 
And  I  dread  not  any  hero  in  the  army  of  the  tsar ; 
To  me  as  ants  upon  the  grass  all  in  that  army  are. 
And  thou  thinkest  in  the  lists  this  tide  to  battle 

with  me  here!" 

He  spake  and  very  suddenly  he  cast  the  battle- 
spear, 
Eager  to  wound.     But  the  good  God  aided  B&n 

Strahin  well. 
His  white  steed,  when  the  spear  flew  by,  down  on 

his  knees  he  fell. 
High  overhead  the  great  spear  flashed,  and  broke 

on  a  stone  in  three. 
Up  to  the  boss  that  guards  the  hand  was  it  broken 

utterly. 
Now  when  the  spears  were  broken,  each  champion 

drew  his  mace; 
Vlah  Aliya  smote  on  Strahin  and  beat  him  from 

his  place, 
Forward  from  out  of  the  saddle  on  the  white  neck 

of  the  steed. 
Now  the  good  God  aided  Strahin  in  the  moment  of 

his  need. 
Nor  Turk,  nor  Serb  a  steed  doth  curb  of  half  that 

worth  to-day. 
The  beast  swung  head  and  shoulder  in  the  middle 

of  the  fray, 

[53] 


And  his  lord  out  of  that  danger  to  the  saddletree 

threw  back ; 
And  upon  that  Turkish  devil  the  ban  made  his 

attack. 
But  the  Turk  out  of  the  saddle  would  neither  fall 

nor  flee, 
Though  'neath  the  blows  his  horse  had  sunk  in  the 

black  dust  to  the  knee. 
The  spiky  maces  in  their  hands  were  shattered  left 

and  right, 
And  forth  they  drew  the  sabers,  and  anew  they 

fought  the  fight. 
But  lo,  the  great  Ban  Strahin  at  his  belt  had  such 

a  blade 
That  a  pair  of  smiths  must  forge  it  with  three  men 

there  to  aid! 
From  Sunday  unto  Sunday  till  the  steel  was  waxen 

cold 
Had  those   same   craftsmen   cooled  it  within  the 

earthen  mold; 
And  thereafter  had  they  sharpened  it  by  laying 

on  the  sledge. 
Smote  the  Turk,  but  Strahin  waited  edge  against 

saber-edge, 
Till   he  smote  hard   against   it,   and   the  Turk's 

blade  broke  in  half. 
This  saw  the  ban  and  in  he  ran,  and  in  his  heart 

did  laugh 

As  he  prest  in  upon  him,  smiting  on  either  hand, 
To  strike  his   head  from  his   shoulders  with  the 

edges  of  the  brand. 

[54] 


Hero  smote  against  hero ;  the  Turk  good  ward  he 
made, 

He  kept  his  head  and  shoulders  with  the  truncheon 
of  the  blade. 

With  the  remnant  of  his  weapon  he  beat  the  saber 
back; 

And  bit  by  bit  as  he  smote  on  it  to  pieces  did  he 
hack 

The  saber  of  Ban  Strahin.     Two  blades  in  frag- 
ments lay. 

Then  leaped  they  from  the  horses,  and  hurled 
the  hilts  away. 

They    gripped    each    other    by    the    throat    like 
dragons  at  that  tide; 

All  day  till  noon  they  wrestled  upon  the  moun- 
tain side; 

Till  on  the  Turk's  pale  lips  the  foam  like  snow 
new-fallen  stood, 

And  the  white  foam  on  Strahin's  lip  was  flecked 
with  drops  of  blood; 

The  blood  upon  his  garments  and  on  his  jack- 
boots ran. 

But  when  the  pain  had  gripped  him,  at  last  out 

spake  the  ban: 

"My    love,    God's    curse    upon    thee!     What 
travail  dost  thou  see? 

Take  up  a  splinter  of  the  sword,  and  strike  the 
Turk  or  me. 

Think  which  of  us,  beloved,  is  dearer  unto  thee." 
But  thereto  the  Turk  spake  fiercely: 

"Beloved 
of  the  ban, 

[55] 


Strike  him,  for  thou  shalt  never  more  be  dear  unto 

the  man ; 
But  aye  his  sharp  reproaches  against  thee  shall  be 

bent, 
Because  thou  once  wast  with  me  in  the  shadow  of 

the  tent. 

But  I  will  love  thee  always,  nor  ever  thee  disdain. 
In   Yedren    thirty    serving-maids    shall  bear  thy 

sleeves  and  train; 
Sugar  and  honey  ever  more  shall  be  set  for  thee  to 

eat; 
With  ducats  will  I  deck  thee  from  thy  head  unto 

thy  feet: 
Strike  now  the  ban." 

All  womankind  are  lightly 

led  astray. 

She  leaped  and  grasped  a  splinter  of  the  sword- 
blade  where  it  lay. 
She  wrapped  it  in  a  napkin,  lest  it  should  wound 

her  hand, 
And  she  sought  to  smite  her  wedded  lord  with  the 

fragment  of  the  brand, 
And  guard  Vlah  Aliya's  head.     She  cut  the  silver 

plume  in  twain ; 
She  clove  the  milk-white  turban  that  guarded  him 

in  vain; 
The  blood  flowed  down  the  hero's  face,  and  was 

like  to  blind  his  eyes, 
And  the  ban  dreaded  sore  that  tide  to  die  in  foolish 

wise. 
But  suddenly   within  him  the  thoughts  together 

ran, 

[56] 


And  out  of  his  white  throat  he  called  on  the  hound 

Karaman — 
A  hound  trained  to  the  hunting.     He  called  the 

hound  by  name, 
And  with  a  bound  the  tawny  hound  to  help  his 

master  came, 

And  bit  the  ban's  beloved.     A  dog  all  women  fear ; 
She  threw  the  blade  upon  the  ground,  and  cuffed 

the  hound  on  the  ear. 
Screaming  she  fled  across  the  mount;  afar  they 

heard  her  cry; 
But  the  strong  Turk  looked  after  to  see  where  she 

did  fly. 
And  new  strength  burst  upon  the  ban,  and  courage 

great  and  new, 

And  hither  and  yon  he  drove  the  Turk,  and  wres- 
tling overthrew. 
Howe'er  so  hard  the  Turk  might  guard,  he  struck 

from  underneath, 
And,  leaping  in  under  the  chin,  he  fastened  with 

his  teeth, 
As  the  wolf  throttling  a  lamb.     Then  he  leaped  up 

from   the   ground, 
And  with  a  mighty  voice  he  called  after  the  tawny 

hound, 
That   the  beast   should  cease  pursuing  the   maid 

the  ban  had  wed ; 
And  swift  along  the  mountain  to  the  Turkish  host 

she  fled. 
But  the  ban  would  not  let  her;  he  caught  her  by 

the  hand; 

[57] 


He  brought  her  back  unto  the  place  where  the 

dappled  steed  did  stand. 
He  took  the  horse  by  the  shoulders ;  he  threw  her 

on  behind; 
Then  rode  he  deviously  along,  the  homeward  way 

to  find. 

Away  from  the  tsar's  army  he  turned  the  bridle- 
rein, 
Till  he  came  in  to  his  wife's  kin  at  Krushevats  on 

the  plain, 
And  old  Yug  Bogdan  and  his  sons  rose,  when  they 

saw  him  come; 

They  took  him  to  their  bosoms,  and  gave  him  wel- 
come home. 
But  when  Yug  Bogdan  saw  his  plight  his  tears  ran 

down  amain: 
"Now  fair  be  all  thy  fortune,  that  thou  art  home 

again. 
Strong  are  the  Turkish  heroes,  the  soldiers  of  the 

tsar; 
A  fighting  man  to  wound  the  ban  they  must  have 

sought  afar." 
But  the  nine  brothers  feared  him,  till  the  ban  to 

them   spake : 
"Dread   nothing,    my    good   brethren,    nor   be 

troubled  for  my  sake. 
With  the  tsar  there  was  no  hero  to  conquer  me  in 

fight. 
Would  ye  then  hear  who  wounded  me,  and  whose 

hand  did  me  smite? 
When  with  the  Turk  I  battled,  O  thou  good  father 

mine, 

[58] 


Then  my  beloved  smote  me — this  dearest  child  of 

thine; 
She  set  aside  my  love  that  tide,  and  to  the  Turk 

gave  aid." 
Yug  flashed  up  like  a  living  fire,  and  to  his  sons 

he  said: 
"Slash  the  she-wolf  in  pieces  with  the  nine  blades 

of  the  brands !" 
The  strong  sons  heard  their  father,  and  upon  her 

set  their  hands. 
But  Strahin  will  not  let  them.     He  speaketh  to 

them  apace: 

"My  nine  good  brethren,  wherefore  do  ye  your- 
selves disgrace? 
Why  are  your  knives  unscabbarded  ?     Heroes  ye 

are,  I  know! 

But  why  were  not  your  sabers  with  me  at  Kosovo, 
To  do  great  deeds  against  the  Turk  when  danger 

ran  most  high? 
And  harken  this,  my  brethren;  your  sister  shall 

not  die. 
Without  your  aid  already,  an  I  wished,  she  had 

been  slain. 
Yet,  should  I  slaughter  all  her  kin,  no  comrade 

then  would  drain, 
Reveling  with  me  deliciously,  the  cool  cups  of  the 

wine. 
So  now  have  I  given  my  pardon  unto  this  bride  of 

mine." 
There  are  not  many  on  earth  to  match  him, 

man  to  man, 

And  scanty  are  the  heroes  as  gallant  as  the  ban. 
[59] 


TSAR    LAZAR    AND    TSARITSA    MfLITSA 

TSAR  LAZAR  sat  at  dinner,  and  with  him  at  the  wine 
Sat  Militsa,  the  Tsaritsa,  beside  her  lord  to  dine. 
Unto  her  lord  said  Militsa : 

"O  Servians  king  and 

crown, 

To-morrow  unto  Kosovo  the  army  goeth  down, 
Thy  voyvodas  and  captains.     No  man  thou  leavest 

at  home 
With  a  letter  to  go  to  Kosovo  and  hither  again  to 

come. 
Thou   leadest   my   nine  brethren,   Yug  Bogdan's 

children  nine. — 
Leave  me  one  brother  of  them  all  to  cheer  this  heart 

of  mine." 
To  her  spake  Lazar  of  the  Serbs :     "Which  wilt 

thou  have  with  thee 
In   the   palace?"     And  she  made   answer:     "Let 

Boshko  stay  with  me." 
Then  spake  Tsar  Lazar: 

"Lady,  to-morrow,  when 

day  comes  on, 
And  the  white  dawn  breaketh,  and  the  world  is 

warmed  of  the  great  sun, 
And  they   open  the   gates   of  the   city,   go  thou 

unto  the  arch, 
Wherethrough  unto  the  muster  my  hosts  begin  to 

march. 
The  spears  shine  over  the  chargers :  before  them  will 

Boshko  ride, 

[601 


And  he  carries  high  the  standard  with  a  great  cross 

glorified. 
Bless  him !     Let  give  the  standard  to  whomsoever 

he  will; 
But  let  him  back  to  the  palace,  abiding  with  thee 

still." 
Now  when  the  gates  were  opened,  what  time  the 

morning  shone, 
Then  forth  unto  the  gateway  Queen  Militsa  came 

down, 
And  stood  beneath  the  portal  in  the  shadow  of  the 

arch, 
What  time   unto  the  muster  the  host  began  to 

march. 
The  spears  shone  over  the  chargers:  before  them 

Boshko  rode 
On  a  bay   steed,  and  his  rich  weed  with  shining 

goldwork  glowed, 
And  the  standard  that  he  carried  swept  round  him 

fold  on  fold; 
Over  the  steed  it  bellied;  thereon  was  an  apple  of 

gold; 
From   the  apple   rose   gilded   crosses,   and   tassels 

from  them  did  hang, 
And  brushed  against  his  shoulders  as  in  the  wind 

they  swang. 
Queen  Militsa  sprang  forward  to  the  bay  stallion's 

head, 
And  she  clasped  arms  round  her  brother,  and  unto 

him  she  said: 
"My  brother  Boshko,  thou  art  become  the  tsar 

his  gift  to  me. 

161] 


Thou  shalt  not  go  to  Kosovo ;  he  gives  his  blessing 

to  thee ; 
Thou  shalt  give  the  golden  banner  to  the  hero  of 

thy  will, 
And  be  my  brother  in  Krushevats,  that  I  may  have 

thee  still." 
Boshko  answered  her  straightway: 

"Get  back 

to  thy  hall  this  tide! 
I  would  not  turn  nor  give  up  the  flag  with  the  great 

cross  glorified, 
Though  the  tsar  should  give  me  Krushevats  for 

ever  and  a  day; 
For  the  remnant  of  the  army  concerning  me  would 

say: 
"  'Where   is    the   captain,   Boshko — that    same 

that  dared  not  go 
To  perish  for  Christ  his  Cross  and  Faith  on  the 

field  of  Kosovo?'  " 

And  forthwith  he  rode  the  stallion  abroad  be- 
neath the  arch; 
And  lo,  Yug  Bogdan  and  seven  sons  began  thereby 

to  march! 
She  stopped  each  of  the  seven  to  whom  her  heart 

did  yearn, 

But  none  of  all  the  seven  aside  for  her  would  turn. 
With  the  tsar's  chargers  Voin,  her  brother,  came 

that  way; 
All  covered  with  a  panoply  of  shining  gold  were 

they. 
She  seized  the  dun  steed  under  him,  and  took  him 

by  the  head; 

[62] 


She  took  her  brother  in  her  arms,  and  unto  him  she 

said: 
"My  brother  Voin,  thou  art  become  the  tsar  his 

gift  to  me; 
Thou  shalt  not  go  to  Kosovo ;  he  gives  his  blessing 

to  thee. 
Thou  shalt  give  the  tsar's  war  horses  to  the  hero  of 

thy  will, 
And  be  my  brother  in  Krushevats,  that  I  may  have 

thee  still." 
Voin  answered  her  straightway: 

"Get  back  to 

thy  hall  this  tide! 
I  would  not  turn  nor  give  over  the  steeds  that  the 

tsar  shall  ride; 

What  though  in  wisdom  I  foresaw  all  of  my  over- 
throw, 
I  would  ride  to  death  for  the  Cross  and  the  Faith 

on  level  Kosovo." 
Forthwith  right  through  the  gateway  he  spurred 

the  charger  well; 
And  when  the  queen  that  sight  had  seen,  on  the 

stone  in  a  swoon  she  fell. 
And  when  King  Lazar  saw  it,  the  tears  ran  down 

his  face; 
And  he  looked  and  called  Goluban,  his  henchman, 

from  his  place: 
"Goluban,  my  good  henchman,  dismount  thee  in 

this  hour, 
And  bear  thy  lady  in  thine  arms  up  to  the  slender 

tower. 

[63] 


For  this  the  deed  of  my  command  God's  pardon 
shalt  thou  find ; 

Thou  shalt  not  go  to  Kosovo,  but  linger  here  be- 
hind." 

Weeping,  Goluban  heard  it.     He  dismounted  in 
that  hour ; 

He  bore  his  lady  in  his  arms  up  to  the  slender 
tower ; 

But  his  will  he  could  not  overcome,  nor  bear  to 
linger  so, 

But   steed  bestrode,   and  hard  he  rode   away  to 

Kosovo. 

When  rose  up  the  white  morning,  from  Kosovo 
there  wheeled 

A  pair  of  great  black  ravens  from  the  broad  battle- 
field; 

They  perched  on  the  white  palace  whence  Lazar 
issued  forth; 

The  one  cawed  loud  and  vainly,  the  one  spake  words 

of  worth: 

"Is  this  Tsar  Lazar's  palace,  where  he  was  wont 
to  dwell? 

Is  there  no  man  or  woman  within  the  citadel?" 
None  heard  but  the  Queen  Militsa ;  she  came  be- 
fore the  wall, 

And  unto  those  two  ravens  her  voice  aloud  did  call' 
"I  conjure  you,  black  ravens,  sitting  upon  the 
coign, 

From  whence  come  ye  this  morning?     Did  ye  see 
the  armies  join? 

Have  the  armies  smitten  together  in  the  field  of 
Kosovo  ? 

[64] 


In  God  his  name  I  conjure  you,  who  hath  the  over- 
throw?" 
And  the  black  ravens  answered: 

"At  Kosovo, 

O  queen, 
Two  hosts  that  smote  at  Kosovo,  we  saw  them  fight 

yestreen. 
Both  tsars  are  down ;  and  of  the  Turks  a  remnant 

doth  remain, 
But  all  the  Serbs  are  slaughtered,  or  wounded  on 

the  plain." 
They  spoke ;  and  lo,  Milutin  came  before  the 

queen  to  stand! 
Wounded  full  sore,  the  henchman  bore  one  hand 

in  the  other  hand; 
Seventeen  wounds  were  on  him  ;  his  steed  with  blood 

was  red. 
And  unto  him  the  weeping  queen  rough  words  in 

anger  said: 

"What  treachery,  Milutin,  is  this  unto  the  tsar?" 
But  he  said : 

"Help  me  down,  lady,  from  the 

great  steed  of  war; 
Lave  me  with  the  cool  water,  and  with  the  ruddy 

wine, 
Do  thou,  O  royal  lady,  anoint  these  wounds  of 

mine." 
Queen  Mflitsa  she  lifted  him  down  from  the  steed 

of  war; 
She  laved  him  with  white  water,  and  red  wine  from 

the  jar. 

[66] 


And  when  he  was  himself  again,  she  questioned  him 

withal : 

"Ah,   what   betid   at   Kosovo?     Did  the   Tsar 
Lazar  fall? 

My  father  and  my  brethren,  are  they  fallen  on  the 
plain  ? 

Lord  Milosh,  and  Vuk  Brankovich,  and  Strahin, 

are  they  slain?" 
The  servant  spake: 

"My  lady,  they  are  dead  at 
Kosovo, 

Where  Lazar  the  tsar  glorious  fell  in  the  over- 
throw. 

The  Turk  and  Servian  lances  lie  shattered  every- 
where, 

But  many  more   of   Christian   spears,   alas,   were 
broken  there, 

Defending  good  Tsar  Lazar  in  the  fury  of  the  fray. 

But  Yug  Bogdan  perished,  lady,  in  the  fight  of  the 
first  day; 

Eight  of  his  sons,  those  champions,  were  slaugh- 
tered side  by  side ; 

For  they  would  not  use  treachery,  and  by  each 
other  died. 

Still  Boshko's  banner  of  the  cross  hurled  back  the 
Turks  in  droves, 

To  and  fro  over  Kosovo,  as  a  falcon  harries  doves. 

Where  the  blood  flowed  up  to  the  knee  died  Stra- 
hinya  the  ban; 

By  Sitnitsa  fell  Milosh,  where  the  cool  waters  ran. 

There  perished  many  Turks  amain ;  and  Milosh  in 
his  ire 

[66] 


Hath  slain  the  Sultan  Murad — God  be  gracious  to 

his  sire ! — 
And  a  good  twelve  thousand  Turks  that  tide.     And 

aye  the  Serbs  will  know 
His  deeds  of  war  while  men  are  left  to  tell  of 

Kosovo. 

But  ask  not  of  the  cursed  Vuk !     May  God's  dam- 
nation burst 
Upon  his  sire  and  all  his  tribe,  and  the  whole  house 

accurst ! 
JTwas  he  betrayed  the  tsar  in  war  unto  the  Turkish 

spear, 
And  fled  with  his  twelve  thousand  men,  the  traitor 

cavalier !" 


[67] 


FRAGMENTS  OF  K6SOVO  BALLADS 

I 

MTJRAD   the  tsar  hath   come   in   war  down  upon 

Kosovo ; 
He  sent  a  letter  to  Krushevats  that  the  tsar  his  will 

might  know : 
"Ho,  Lazar,  lord  of  Servia,  with  sense  it  scarce 

accords, 
That  there  should  be  one  empery  'neath  the  power 

of  two  lords, 
One  rayah  that  pays  double  tax !     We  cannot  both 

rule  here ! 
So  render  me  up  your  city  keys  and  the  taxes  for 

seven  year. 

But  if  thou  wilt  not  send  them,  abide  at  Kosovo, 
That  to  our  hand  we  may  sunder  the  land  with  a 

keen  saber  blow." 
When  the  fine-written  letter  Tsar  Lazarus  had 

read, 
He  looked  upon  the  letter  and  bitter  tears  he  shed. 


[68] 


II 

Bitter  was  the  tsar's  curse  to  hear ;  aye !  and  a  word 

of  woe: 
"Who    comes    not    to    the    battle   with   me   at 

Kosovo, 
Let  nothing  grow  beneath  his  hand  in  the  field  that 

he  shall  till ; 
Let  not  the  white  wheat  spring  in  the  field,  nor  the 

vine  shoot  on  the  hill!" 


[69] 


m 

Lazar,  the  Tsar  of  Servia,  holds  his  high  holiday. 
In  the  secret  place,  in  Krushevats,  with  all  his  lords 

he  lay. 
All  of  the  lords  and  lordings  were  come  with  him  to 

dine: 
At  his  right  hand  sat  Yug  Bogdan  and  Yug's 

strong  children  nine; 
On  his  left  sat  Vuk  Brankovich ;  at  the  far  end  of 

the  board, 
With  two  more  Servian  voyvodas,  was  Milosh  the 

young  lord; 
Ivan  Kosanchich  was  the  one,  the  other  of  the 

twain 
Was  Milan  Toplitsa.     And  the  tsar  arose  a  health 

to  drain 

Unto  the  Servian  nobles;  he  lifted  the  beaker  up: 
"O   voyvodas   and   captains,   to   whom   shall   I 

pledge  this  cup? 
If  I  pledge  it  unto  the  oldest,  to  Yug  shall  I  drink 

this  hour ; 

I  shall  pledge  it  to  Vuk  Brankovich,  if  I  drink  be- 
cause of  power; 

If  I  pledge  to  whomsoever  is  dear  to  me  and  mine, 
I'll  drink  to  my  good  brethren,  Yug  Bogdan's  chil- 
dren nine; 
For  beauty  to  Ivan  Kosanchich,  and  to  Milan  for 

his  height; 

But  unto  Milosh  6bilich  for  the  glory  of  his  might. 
To  none  other  will  I  drink  it,  while  I  have  strength 

and  breath : 

[70] 


A  health  unto  Milosh  Obilich,  and  faith  and  broken 

faith ! 
Faith  first  and  treason  to  follow !     To-morrow  at 

Kosovo 
Thou  shalt  betray  me,  and  after  to  the  tsar  of  the 

Turks  shalt  thou  go. 
Hail  to  thee,  and  a  health  to  thee,  and  the  cup's 

delight  be  thine  f 
Rise  up,  Milosh  the  voyvoda,  and  lightly  drink  the 

wine !" 
Milosh  rose  swiftly  to  his  feet,  and  bowed  to  the 

black  earth: 

"Praise  to  thee,  Lazar  the  glorious,  and  a  greet- 
ing to  thy  worth ! 
Praise  for  thy  gift  and  greeting,  but  for  thy  speech 

no  praise ! 
Since  I  was  never  a  traitor,  by  my  faith,  in  all  my 

days, 
Nor  ever  will  work  treason.     But  at  Kosovo  to- 

morn 
Belike  for  the  Cross  of  Christ  and  his  Faith  shall  I 

be  overborne. 
But  treachery  is  at  thy  knee,  and  drinketh  before 

thy  face; 
There  sits  the  traitor  Brankovich,  of  the  accursed 

race. 
To-morrow    on    St.   Vitus'    day,    on    the   field    of 

Kosovo, 
Who  of  us  twain  is  true  or  false,  all  men  shall 

clearly  know.1 

i  As  Mijatovich  remarks   (Servia  and  the  Servians,  1908, 
p.  183),  there  is  here  in  the  original  "  a  fine  play  on  the 

[71] 


An  God  me  speed,  will  I  ride  indeed  to  Kosovo  in 

the  dawn, 
To  slash  the  throat  of  Murad  the  tsar  and  set  my 

foot  thereon. 
An  God  give  me  good  fortune,  safely  returning 

here, 
I  will  lay  hand  on  Brankovich,  and  bind  him  to 

this  spear, 
As  flax  on  the  long  distaff  is  bound  by  a  woman's 

hand, 
And  to  and  fro  in  Kosovo  will  I  bear  him  through 

the  land." 

word  vid,"  which  means  both  Vitus  and  sight.  The  literal 
translation  is:  "Tomorrow  is  the  fair  day  of  St.  Vitus  (or 
of  Sight) ;  we  shall  see  on  the  field  of  Kosovo,  etc." 


[72] 


IV 

"Ho,  brother  Ivan  Kosanchich,  hast  thou  spied  the 

Turks'  array? 
Have  the  Turks   a  mighty  army?     Can  we  beat 

them  in  the  fray?" 
Quoth  Ivan : 

"Milosh   Obilich,   my    own    good 

brother  dear, 
I  have  spied  the  Turkish  army,  and  a  great  host 

have  they  here. 
Should  all  of  us  be  changed  to  salt,  we  scarce  should 

salt  their  meat. 
Full   fifteen    days    throughout   their   host   have    I 

walked  with  nimble  feet, 
Nor  came  on  end  or  number,  howsoever  I  might 

march ; 
From  the  marble  to  the  maple,  thence  to  Sazliya 

of  the  arch, 
From  the  arched  bridge  to  Zvechan  the  whole  land 

have  they  ta'en ; 
From  Zvechan  through  Chechan  to  the  wood  they 

seized  the  mount  amain. 
Ranks  of  horses  and  heroes,  spears  like  a  mountain 

wall, 
And  like  the  clouds  of  heaven  are  their  banners 

over  all; 
And  like  the  snows  from  heaven  are  their  tents 

upon  the  plain ; 
And  should  a  storm  rise  o'er  them,  on  the  earth  it 

would  not  rain, 

[73] 


But  on  horses  and  on  heroes  would  the  rain  fall 

from  on  high. 
The  tsar  took  Lab  and  Sftnitsa  and  Mazgit  field 

thereby." 
Still     Milosh     Obilich     questions     him: 

"Ivan, 

brother  in  war, 
Tell  me  where  lieth,  brother,  the  tent  of  Murad  the 

tsar; 
For  unto  the  Tsar  Lazarus  my  word  is  given  and 

gone, 
That  I  would  slash  Tsar  Murad's  throat  and  set  my 

foot  thereon." 
But    Ivan     answers    him    lightly: 

"Brother,  a 
fool  art  thou ! 
Where  in  the  center  of  the  camp  Tsar  Murad  lieth 

now, 
Wert  thou  a  winged  goshawk  from  out  high  heaven 

sped, 
Thou  couldst  not  in  thine  anger  hurt  a  hair  upon 

his  head." 
Then    Milosh    speaketh    to    Ivan: 

"Ivan,  my 
brother  dear, 
Speak  not  thus  to  Tsar  Lazarus,  lest  he  and  the 

host  should  fear; 
But  unto  the  Tsar  Lazarus  thus  and  thus  shalt 

thou  say: 

"  'Strong  are  the  Turks,  but  we,  mayhap,  will 
shake  them  in  the  fray, 

[74] 


And  lightly  overcome  them,  for  no  host  of  battle 

they  are, 
But  priests  and  pilgrims  and  merchants,  and  knaves 

that  know  not  war, 
That  are  come  abroad  together  to  eat  Tsar  Murad's 

bread. 
And  for  the  royal  army,  the  half  are  well-nigh 

dead 
From  the  grievous  ill  of  heartache,  that  is  a  bitter 

pain, 
And  the  good  steeds  of  that  army  are  glandered 

on  the  plain.' " 


[75] 


"Who  is  the  great  hero  that  lifted  once  his  hand, 
And  sundered  well  twelve  Turkish  heads  with  the 

edges  of  the  brand?" 
"That  is  the  brave  Ban  Strahin." 

"What  hero 
cometh  here, 
That  spitteth  the  Moslems  two  and  two  on  the 

edges  of  his  spear, 
And  driveth  them  before  him  to  Sitnitsa's  gray 

tide?" 
"That  is  Srija  the  champion,  whom  men  call  the 

Angry-Eyed." 
"What  hero  on  a  white  steed  bears  the  flag  of 

the  cross  in  his  hands, 

And  all  along  he  harries  the  flying  Turks  in  bands, 
And   chases   them   in   his    anger  to   Sitnitsa   the 

flood?" 

"That  is  Boshko  the  captain,  of  old  Yug  Bog- 
dan's  blood." 


THE  BATTLE  OP  K6SOVO 

A  GKAY  hawk  from  Jerusalem,  with  a  swallow  in 

his  beak, 

Flew  onward  into  Servia,  Tsar  Lazarus  to  seek. 
Nay,  it  was  never  a  great  gray  hawk  with  a  swallow 

that  flew  so  far, 
But  Elij  ah,  our  Lady's  messenger,  with  her  tidings 

to  the  tsar. 
Tsar  Lazar  read  the  letter: 

"O  king  whom  the 

Serbs  revere, 
Wilt  thou  choose  for  thine  own  the  Kingdom  of 

God  or  an  earthly  empire  here? 
For  if,  instead  of  a  heavenly  rule,  thou  choosest  an 

earthly  realm, 

Leap  astride  of  the  steed  this  tide  and  do  on  hau- 
berk and  helm; 
Belt  about  thee  the  girdle  of  war  and  look  to  saber 

and  dirk, 
Tighten  at  need  the  girth  of  the  steed — and  here 

shalt  thou  slaughter  the  Turk. 
But  if  thou  choosest  the  Empire  of  Christ,  and  a 

kingdom  of  God's  own, 
Build  him  a  church  by  Kosovo,  but  not  of  marble 

stone; 
But  found  it  on  silk  and  satin  and  its  corners  in 

scarlet  fine. 
Therein  shall  thine  armies  take  of  Christ  the  white 

bread  and  the  wine. 
Thou  shalt  marshal  the  army  of  the  Serbs,  and 

upon  that  dreadful  day 

[77] 


In  the  van  of  the  war  thou  shalt  die,  O  tsar,  with 

the  whole  of  thine  array." 
When  the  tsar  heard  the  holy  word,  his  thoughts 

came  two  and  two: 
"Dear  God,  what  is  the  whole  of  thine  heart,  and 

what  is  the  deed  to  do? 
Which  shall  I  hold  for  the  better  realm?     Man's 

sovereignty  may  die, 
But  the  Kingdom  of  the  Living  God,  its  power 

goes  on  for  aye." 

Tsar  Lazarus  has  chosen  at  last  God's  King- 
dom for  his  own ; 
And  he  built  a  church  at  Kosovo,  but  not  of  marble 

stone ; 

On  satin  and  on  velvet  he  made  the  walls  to  stand, 
And  he   summoned   our  lord   the  patriarch,   and 

bishops  twelve  to  hand. 
The  armies  came  before  him,  what  time  the  prayers 

were  said, 
And  the  good  priests  gave  to  them  Christ's  wine 

and  milk-white  bread. 
And  when  on  level  Kosovo  that  army  up  was 

drawn, 
The  Turks  smote  against  Kosovo  at  the  breaking 

of  the  dawn. 
Yug  Bogdan  with  the  vanguard  came  up  against 

their  line; 
The  young  gray  hawks  were  with  him,  his  gallant 

children  nine; 

And  after  every  standard  came  thrice  three  thou- 
sand men, 

£78] 


But  by  Yug  Bogdan's  banner  were  thousands  two 

and  ten. 

They  came  upon  the  infidel,  that  army  of  renown, 
And  slashed  and  slew  among  them;  seven  pashas 

smote  they  down. 
The  eighth  gave  way  before  them;  Yug  Bogdan 

there  was  slain ; 
His  nine  gray  falcons  and  their  host  came  never 

home  again. 
The  children  of  Marnyava  moved  on  with  their 

array; 
Vukashin,  Goyko,  Uglyesha  were  marshals  of  the 

fray; 
And  the  ninth  Turkish  pasha  before  their  charge 

fell  back, 

But  tJglyesha  and  Goyko  were  slain  in  the  attack, 
Two  of  Marnyava's  children ;  and  terribly,  indeed, 
Was  King  Vukashin  wounded,  and  trampled  by  the 

steed. 
Now  smitten  was  the  center  and  smitten  was  the 

van, 
And  Ertseg  Stepan  with  the  rear  into  the  battle 

ran. 
Brave  warriors  had  Ertseg,   full  sixty  thousand 

men; 
They  trampled  through  the  tumult  and  smote  the 

Turks  again. 
Nine  pashas  fell  before  them,  the  tenth  drew  back 

in  dread; 
But  Ertseg  and  his  army  were  numbered  with  the 

dead. 

[79] 


And  now  rode  out  Tsar  Lazarus  with  his  whole 

host  along, 

Seventy  thousand  gallant  Serbs  and  seven  thou- 
sand strong. 
They  scattered  the  Turks  by  Kosovo;  they  scarce 

would  let  them  stand 

To  look  upon  the  army  for  the  lifting  of  the  brand. 
Then  would  the  tsar  have  won  the  war  for  Servia 

by  God's  aid — 
God's   curse  be  on  Vuk  Brankovich,  the  dastard 

that  betrayed 
The  father  of  his  wife  that  tide! — the  tsar  of  all 

the  land! 
The   Turks   smote  down  Tsar  Lazarus   with  the 

edges  of  the  brand. 
Seven  and  seventy  thousand  men  lay  dead  upon  the 

sod, 
All  gallant  Serbs,  and  their  pure  blood  was  dear 

unto  their  God. 


[80] 


HOW  MILOSH  6BILICH  SLEW  THE  SUL- 
TAN MURAD 

TSAR  MURAD  sat  beneath  his  tent  with  the  pashas 

of  his  power 
And  his  viziers,  and  counsel  took  what  way  to  smite 

the  Giaour 
And  win  with  least  disaster;  when  lo  there  came 

from  afar 
The  vizier  Osman  running  to  claim  reward  of  the 

tsar. 
He  kissed  the  hand  and  the  garment,  himself  to  the 

earth  he  bowed, 
And  thus  to  Murad,  the  Turkish  tsar,  the  vizier 

spake  aloud: 

"Murad,  the  Sun   of  all  the  East,  holy  Ma- 
homet's heir! 
Rejoice!  the  Servian  empire  thou  hast  conquered 

everywhere ! 
Here  come  three  Servian  voyvodas  that  have  chiefly 

made  us  fear; 
They  come  hither  to  surrender,  for  down  have  they 

turned  the  spear." 
It  pleased  the  Sultan  Murad ;  it  was  pleasant  in 

his  ears ; 
Woes  plagued  him  not.     He  spake  unto  the  pashas 

and  viziers: 
"Brave  pashas,  glorious  viziers,  my  captains  of 

command, 
Shall  I  reach  to  the  Wallachians  my  foot  or  my 

white  hand?" 

[81] 


Said  the  viziers :   "0  glorious  lord,  put  not  thy 

hand  to  shame; 
Shame  were  it  to  reach  out  to  one  of  the  Wallachian 

name! 
Stretch  out  thy  foot  unto  them,  and  let  them  kiss 

it  sweet, 
And  let  them  be  forever  at  all  times  'neath  thy 

feet." 
Outspake    Vizier    Ushtugliya:     "Tsar    Murad, 

our  crown  of  gold, 
Shall  we  go  out  before  them?"     Then  answered 

Murad  the  bold: 
"  Go  out  to  the  field  before  them,  and  three 

great  cloths  unfold; 
Stretch  one  of  red,  the  second  of  white,  the  third 

green  glorious. 
When  the  slaves  drive  on  their  horses,  if  they  come 

to  fight  with  us, 
All  three  of  the  cloths  beneath  their  feet  will  they 

trample  under  here. 
If  they  bring  me  the  keys  of  the  cities  and  the 

taxes  for  seven  year, 
On  the  red  cloth  will  they  trample,  the  red  and  the 

white  beside, 
But  the  green  will  they  lift  on  their  lances  and 

thereunder  will  they  ride." 
When  the  tsar's  troopers  heard  it,  before  the 

three  they  flew; 
Before  the  Servian  voyvodas  the  three  great  cloths 

they  drew. 

When  the  voyvodas  drove  on  the  steeds,  they  tram- 
pled the  cloths  all  three; 
£82] 


And  when  Ushtugliya  saw  it,  to  Murad  the  tsar 

said  he: 
"Lo,  tsar,  the  servants  of  Lazar  have  trampled 

every  cloth! 
Under  foot  have  they  trampled  them,  for  a  sign 

that  they  are  wroth, 
And  desire  to-day  their  quarrel  to  undertake  with 

thee, 
Tsar  Murad;  they  bring  not  hither  of  any  city 

the  key." 
The  bold  Tsar  Murad  answered : 

"Not  so,  my 

children  brave ! 
Had  they  been  eager  to  quarrel,  long  since  had  they 

drawn  the  glaive ; 
Drunk  are  the  Giaours,  and  in  drunkenness  have 

trampled  the  cloth  amain." 
Meanwhile  with  his  brethren  was  Milosh  come,  on 

his  steed,  the  Crane. 
Down  he  got  from  the  charger,  and  out  the  tsar's 

grooms  flew 
To  hold  the  Crane  for  Milosh ;  no  rein  to  them  he 

threw, 
He  gave  him  to  Ivan  Kosanchich.     To  the  tent  of 

Murad  the  strong 

Forthwith  Milosh  the  voyvoda  went  hastily  along. 
Murad  stretched  out  his  foot  to  him  over  the  tapes- 
tries, 
And  spoke,  for  he  deemed  that  Milosh  desired  his 

face  to  kiss: 
"Now  fair  and  soft,  now  soft  and  fair,  O  Lazar's 

follower ; 

[83] 


Trample  not  on  my  garment's  edge,  but  kiss  my 

boot  and  spur." 
Milosh  flashed  like  a  living  fire,  like  a  wolf  on 

Murad  he  sprang ; 

Over  him  like  a  hayduk  the  biting  blade  he  swang ; 
From  the  midriff  to  the  milk-white  throat  the  tsar 

alive  he  rent. 

Murad  gaped  wordless  on  the  ground;  and  under- 
neath the  tent 
Flashing  like  lightning  hither  and  yon  the  blade  of 

Milosh  went. 
He  slaughtered  all  the  tsar's  viziers,  Ushtugliya  he 

slew; 
He   smote   the   tsar's   twelve   guardsmen   and   the 

tent  ropes  clove  in  two. 
The  bodyguard  from  Yedren,  all  of  them  had  he 

slain ; 
Seventy  heads  had  he  smitten  off  ere  he  mounted 

his  steed,  the  Crane. 
Then   mounted   the  three   sworn   brethren   and 

charged  through  Kosovo. 
Dear  God,  their  onslaught  on  the  Turk  was  no 

cheap  overthrow  1 
When  blood  began  a-flowing,  'twas  good  nearby  to 

stand 
And  see  how  the  Turkish  heads  split  wide  beneath 

the  Servian  brand. 
Fierce  slashed  the  Servian  voyvodas,  they  slashed 

the  Turks  like  grass: 
Whither  went  Milan  Toplitsa,  was  room  for  a  wain 

to  pass ; 

[84] 


Whither  went  Ivan  Kosanchich,  lightly  had  two 

moved  on; 
Whither  went  Milosh  Obilich,  abreast  could  three 

have  gone. 
The  whole  of  the  Turkish  host  boiled  up,  rushing 

to  bar  their  track; 
The  voyvodas  trampled  the  army  like  the  earth 

hard  and  black. 

Shame  to  the  Turks  not  to  have  ta'en  their  venge- 
ance for  the  tsar! 
'Neath  the  standard  of  Mahomet  the  whole  host 

came  in  war; 
The  pashas  and  fierce  warriors,  they  flew  into  the 

fight 
Upon  their   faery   chargers,  the  heroes   good  to 

smite. 
But  Milosh  and  his  comrades  with  the  keen  blade 

cut  their  way. 
A  saber  cuts  not  a  mountain  down  in  the  swift 

course  of  a  day, 
Nor  the  voyvodas  all  the  army — and  Milan  Top- 

litsa  cried: 
"Avenge  me,  Milosh!     At  Kosovo  have  I  failed 

to-day  at  thy  side." 
But  Milosh  answered  softly :     "I  forgive  thee  read- 

fly, 

My  brother  Milan;  quickly  shall  I  lie  there  by 

thee." 
Furiously  the  Turks  set  on,  till  Ivan  Kosanchich 

cried: 

"Farewell,  Milosh!     At  Kosovo  have  I  perished 
at  thy  side. 

[85] 


Avenge  me,  Milosh,  who  swarest  my  brother  sworn 

to  be!" 
But  Milosh  the  good  voyvoda,  O  softly  answered 

he! 

"My  brother,  Ivan,  for  this  gift  I  hope  in  per- 
fect faith, 
For  never  yet  was  gallant  man  but  yearned  for  a 

gallant  death." 

And   the    faery    steed   he    goaded,    the   battle- 
charger,  the  Crane ; 
He  maddened  on  the  maddened  steed  and  smote  the 

Turks  again. 

Like  a  dragon  over  Kosovo  the  voyvoda  did  pass, 
With  the  hot  blood  of  the  cursed  Turks  he  reddened 

all  the  grass. 

Furious   and   shamefaced   was   the  host,   yet   un- 
avenged for  the  tsar 
'Neath  the  standard  of  Mahomet  the  whole  host 

came  in  war 
On  Milosh  the  weary  hero.     Of  wounds  he  got  no 

lack; 
They  beat  him  from  his  steed  and  bound  his  hands 

behind  his  back. 

And  unto  the  Tsar  Murad,  Milosh  they  led  along: 
"Here  is  Milosh  the  voyvoda  for    thee,  Tsar 

Murad  the  strong! 
Do  thou  tell  us,  Lord  Glorious,  in  what  wise  we 

shall  him  slay." 
Murad  still  lived;  unto  them  in  a  soft  voice  did 

he  say: 

"Be  ye  not  angry  with  him,  and  do  not  strike 
him  down 

[86] 


For  that  he  slew  me;  fortune  of  battle  brought  it 

on 
That  a  good  hero  slew  me.     Now  draw  up  the  host 

to  war, 
And  smite  the  Giaour!     Let  not  his  power  outlive 

the  Servian  tsar!" 


[87] 


MUSICH  STEVAN 

IN  Maydan  white  as  silver,  in  his  fair  lordly  house, 
Idle  sits  Musich  Stevan,  on  the  good  wine  to  ca- 
rouse. 
The  servant  Vaistina  poured  it  forth  his  thirst  to 

slake, 

And  Stevan  drank  his  fill  thereof,  and  to  the  hench- 
man spake: 

"My  good  son  Vaistina,  I  will  lie  down  to  sleep. 
Do  thou  then  eat  thy  dinner,  and  of  the  wine  drink 

deep, 
And  then  look  forth  on  the  open  sky  because  of  my 

behest, 
To  see  if  the  day-star  stand  in  the  east,  or  the  clear 

moon  in  the  west; 
To  see  if  the  time  be  come  at  last  for  us  to  gird 

and   go 
To  the  meeting  place  that  the  tsar  hath  set  on  the 

field  of  Kosovo. 
Thou  knowest  the  oath  we  took,  my  son,  and  the 

curse  that  then  was  laid 
On  the  voyvoda  or  henchman  that  Tsar  Lazarus 

betrayed : 
"  'Who  springeth  of  a  Servian  house,  in  whom 

Serb  blood  doth  run, 
Who  cometh  not  to  battle  at  Kosovo,  may  he  never 

have  a  son, 
And  no  child  of  his  heart  whatever !     May  naught 

grow  under  his  hand, 
Neither  the  yellow  liquor,  nor  the  white  wheat  in 

the  land! 

[88] 


May  he  like  iron  be  rusted,  and  his  stock  dwindle 

alway !'  " 
And  thereupon  brave  Stevan  on  the  bolster  soft 

he  lay. 

Vaistina  the  henchman,  he  sitteth  him  down  to  dine, 
And  at  his  good  lord's  table  he  hath  his  fill  of  the 

wine, 
And  he  goeth  to  look  at  the  open  sky  because  of 

his  lord's  behest, 
To  see  if  the  day-star  stand  in  the  east,  or  the  clear 

moon  in  the  west. 
And  he  seeth  it  is  the  season  for  them  to  gird  and 

g° 
Unto  Tsar  Lazar's  meeting  place  in  the  field  of 

Kosovo. 

He  went  unto  the  stables  and  led  the  horses  forth ; 
He  saddled  the  steeds,  and  on  them  set  caparisons 

of  worth, 
One  for  himself,  and  the  other  is  for  his  lord  that 

tide. 
And  he  bringeth  a  flag  from  the  palace,  with  a  great 

cross  glorified; 
Silk  is  the  flag  and  golden  are  the  crosses  wrought 

thereon, 
And  the  icon  of  Stevan's  patron,  the  icon  of  St. 

John. 
He  set  the  banner  against  the  wall,  and  went  unto 

the  tower 
To  wake  his  lord,  but  his  lady  came  to  him  in  that 

hour, 
And  she  greeted  and  embraced  him: 

[89] 


"Brother     in 

God,"  said  she, 

"My  servant  Vaistina,  by  God  I  conjure  thee, 
And  by  St.  John  moreover.     A  faithful  knave  art 

thou, 
Henceforth  shalt  thou  be  my  brother;  but  awake 

not  thy  master  now, 
Since  an  evil  dream  of  a  flock  of  doves  this  night 

is  come  to  me. 
With   falcons   twain   from   my   lord  his   place  to 

Kosovo  did  they  flee ; 
Amid  the  camp  of  Murad  they  lighted  nor  came 

again : 
That  is  your  omen,  brother.     So  ponder  lest  you 

be  slain." 

But  the  servant  Vaistina,  unto  the  dame  said  he : 
"Sister,  I  cannot  break  my  faith  with  the  lord 

of  thee  and  me, 
For  thou  wast  not  at  the  swearing,  nor  knowest 

what  curse  was  laid 
On  the  voyvoda  or  henchman  that  Tsar  Lazarus 

betrayed : 
"  'Who  springeth  of  a  Servian  house,  in  whom 

Serb  blood  doth  run, 
Who  cometh  not  to  battle  at  Kosovo,  may  he  never 

have  a  son, 
And  no  child  of  his  heart  whatever !     May  naught 

grow  under  his  hand, 
Neither  the  yellow  liquor,  nor  the  white  wheat  in 

the  land! 
May  he  like  iron  be  rusted,  and  his  stock  dwindle 

alway !' 

[90] 


"And  I  dare  not  break  my  plighted  faith  to  thy 

lord  and  mine  this  day." 
And  he  went  to  his  lord  in  the  tower:     "Rise 

up,  it  is  time  to  go!" 
Stevan  stood  up  before  him,  and  washed  his  neck 

and  brow, 
And  put  on  lordly  raiment   and  an  inlaid  saber 

fine; 
To  the  fair  glory  of  his  God  he  drank  the  yellow 

wine, 
And  to  his  own  good  journey  and  the  fair  cross 

did  he  drain 
The  wine  at  his  own  table:  he  drank  not  there 

again. 
They    mounted    the    two   good    chargers,    they 

spread  the  banners  abroad ; 
The  drums  beat  and  the  flutes  blew  loud,  and  the 

chiefs  rode  forth  with  God. 
Over  the  field  of  Kosovo  did  the  white  morning 

stand ; 
The  Maid  of  Kosovo  met  them  with  a  cup  in  either 

hand. 
The  cups  are  golden  and  empty.     On  her  arm  is  a 

tire  for  the  head, 
A  cap  with  milk-white  feathers  that  are  wound  with 

silver  thread, 
And  all  about  the  midst  thereof  is  it  wrought  with 

golden  braid, 
And  a  row  of  pearls,  moreover.     Unto  her  Stevan 

said: 
"God's  aid  be  with  thee,  my  sister!     And  where 

hast  thou  seen  the  fight? 
[91] 


Where  found'st  thou  the  cap?     Give  unto  me  the 

silken  cap  so  white, 
That  I  may  find  whose  is  the  cap,  what  marshal's 

it  may  be, 
And  be  lucky  upon  my  journey.     And  I  will  keep 

faith  with  thee." 
Answered  the  Maid  of  Kosovo: 

"Thou  lord  of 

kingly  mien, 
My  mother  roused  me  at  daybreak ;  at  no  fight 

have  I  been. 

I  would  draw  water  in   Sitnitsa.     He  had  over- 
flowed his  banks ; 
And,  brother,  he  beareth  the  horses  and  the  heroes 

in  their  ranks, 
And   turbans,   and   Turkish   fezes,   and   the   Serb 

caps  white  as  milk. 
I  plunged  into  the  Sitnitsa,  and  seized  the  cap  of 

silk, 
And  I  bear  to  my  little  brother  the  fair  cap  silken 

and  white, 
For  I  am  young,  and  the  feathers  are  pleasant  in 

my  sight." 
She  gave  the  cap  to  the  marshal ;  I  wot  he  knew 

it  well ! 
He  smote  himself,  and  the  sad  tears  down  from  his 

cheeks  they  fell. 
The  golden  buckle  on  his  sleeve  rent  the  satin  on 

his  knee: 
"Grief  unto  God!     The  prince's  curse  hath  fallen 

upon  me!" 


He  gave  her  the  cap,  and  royally  out  of  his  pouch 

he  told 
In  the  hand  of  the  Maid  of  Kosovo  three  ducats  of 

yellow  gold: 
"Take,  sister!     I  go  to  Kosovo  and  the  battle 

on  the  plain. 
By  Christ,  I  will  give  thee  a  better  gift,  if  I  come 

back  again ! 
But  if  I  die  in  the  fight  thereby,  aye  keep  my  gift 

in  mind." 
They   spurred  the  steeds  and  hard  away  they 

galloped  like  the  wind; 
They   forded  the  flood  of  Sitnitsa,  to  the  tsar's 

camp  they  drew. 
Three    Turkish   pashas    Stevan    smote    down    and 

overthrew ; 
Against  the  fourth  was  he  storming,  but  the  Turks 

o'erwhelmed  him  then. 
With  him  died  Vaistina  and  twelve  thousand  of  his 

men. 

There  did  the  folly  of  the  Serbs  make  as  of  noth- 
ing worth 
The  glory  of  Tsar  Lazar  and  the  Kingdom  of  the 

Earth. 


THE  DEATH  OF  THE  MOTHER  OF  THE 
YtfGOVICHI 

DEAR  God,  a  mighty  marvel  is  fallen  at  Kosovo ! 
In  the  host  were  Yug's  nine  children  and  their 

father  the  tenth  also. 
The  mother  of  Yug's  children  she  prayed  God  in 

her  pain 
For  the  eyes  of  a  hawk  and  a  swan's  white  wing  to 

fly  along  the  plain, 
To  see  her  nine  strong  children  and  Yug  her  lord 

beside. 
And  what  she  prayed  for,  verily,  God  granted  her 

that  tide. 
God  gave  her  eagle  eyesight  and  the  swan's  pinion 

white, 
And  she  found  low  in  Kosovo  her  children  slain 

in  fight, 
And  old  Yug  Bogdan  with  them,  and  beside  them 

nine  good  spears, 
And  on  the  goodly  spearshafts  there  perched  nine 

falcons  fierce; 
Roaming  about  the  lances  the  chargers  nine  did 

stray ; 
Amid  them  were  nine  lions.     And  the  steeds  began 

to  neigh, 
And  the   lions   roared  together,   and   the  falcons 

screamed  aloud; 
But  the  proud  heart  of  the  mother  I  wot  it  was 

unbowed. 
But  the  lions  and  the  horses  she  took  them  by 

the  brows, 

[94] 


And  the  good  falcons  with  them,  and  brought  them 

to  the  house. 
The  wives  of  her  strong  children  afar  they  saw  her 

come, 
And  calling  like  to  cuckoos  went  out  to  lead  her 

home. 
Moaning  before  the  neighing  steeds  and  the  loud 

beasts  thereby 
Wept  the  nine  noble  ladies,  and  the  hawks  took 

up  their  cry. 
Yet  wept  not  that  stern  mother,  and  her  heart  was 

undismayed. 
About  the  middle  of  the  night  the  steed  of  Dam- 

yan  neighed. 
Then  spake  the  mother  to  Damyan's  wife: 

"My 

daughter,  what  is  this? 

And  wherefore  neighs  in  the  nighttide  that  dap- 
pled steed  of  his? 
Is  he  hungry  for  the  milk-white  wheat?     Doth  he 

thirst  for  Zvechan's  wave?" 

And  the  fair  wife  of  Damyan  in  this  wise  an- 
swer gave: 
"My  mother,  Damyan's  mother,  no  wheat  the 

steed  doth  crave, 
Nor  in  the  darkened  nighttime  doth  he  thirst  for 

Zvechan's  wave; 
But  aye  hath  Damyan  taught  him,  and  bidden  him 

abide 
To  champ  his  oats  till  midnight,  thereafter  forth 

to  ride. 

[95] 


Now  he  sorrows  that  his  master  mounts  not  his 

back  this  tide." 
Yet  wept  not  that  stern  mother,  and  her  heart 

was  undismayed. 

That  morn  flew  by  two  ravens,  unto  the  shoul- 
ders red, 

Upon  the  blackness  of  their  beaks  the  milk-white 
froth  it  shone; 

And  they  bare  the  hand  of  a  hero  and  a  golden 
ring  thereon. 

In  the  bosom  of  the  mother,  the  dead  hand  they  let 
fall; 

And  unto  her  daughter,  Damyan's  wife,  in  a  loud 
voice  did  she  call: 

"My  daughter,  wife  of  Damyan,  what  hero's  hand 
is  this?" 

And  the  daughter  made  her  answer:  "Our  Dam- 
yan's hand  it  is ; 

Shall  I  not  know  the  ring  I  gave  the  day  that  we 

were  wed?" 
The  mother  lifted  the  hero's  hand,  and  fondled 

it,  and  said: 

"O  hand,  who  plucked  thee  off,  and  where  apple- 
like  didst  thou  grow? 

Thou  grewest  in  my  bosom ;  thou  wast  plucked  in 

Kosovo." 

Then  swelled  her  heart  within  her,  and  her  soul 
was  rent  in  twain 

For  her  children  and  their  father  that  at  Kosovo 
were  slain. 


[96] 


TSARITSA  MILITSA  AND  VLADETA  THE 
VOYVODA 

MILITSA  the  tsaritsa  went  walking  up  and  down 
Below  the  wall  of  Krushevats  and  the  ramp  of  the 

white  town, 

And  also  Vukosava  and  Mara,  her  daughters  dear, 
When  Vladeta,  the  voyvoda,  on  a  charger  brown 

drew  near. 
Sweated  that  steed  had  been,  indeed,  and  the  white 

foam  stained  his  side. 
"God  aid  thee,  marshal  of  the  king!"     Queen 

Militsa  she  cried; 
"Why  sweats  the  stallion?     Hast  thou  not  come 

from  Kosovo  this  day? 
Sawest  thou  not  my  lord  and  thine?" 

And  Vla- 
deta did  say: 
"God  aid  me,  Tsaritsa  Mflitsa!     I  come  from 

Kosovo. 
I  saw  not  the  tsar,  but  his  white  steed  the  Turks 

drove  to  and  fro, 
Up  and  down  by  Kosovo,  and  I  dread  that  the  tsar 

is  slain." 
When  Queen  Mflitsa  had  heard  it,  on  her  cheeks 

the  tears  did  rain, 
And  anew  she  asketh  the  voyvoda: 

"What  tidings 

of  the  tsar? 
Sawest  thou  Yug's  nine  children  at  Kosovo  that 

are; 

[97] 


And  the  tenth,  Yug  Bogdan,  their  father?" 

And 

Vladeta  replied: 
"I  rode  by  level  Kosovo,  and  I  saw  them  in  that 

tide— 
Yug  and  his  nine  strong  children  at  Kosovo  have 

I  seen. 
Their  arms  were  red  to  the  shoulders,  and  red  were 

the  sabers  keen ; 
Weary  were  their  arms  at  Kosovo  with  cutting  the 

Moslems  down." 
Yet  again  unto  the  voyvoda  the  tsaritsa  spake 

on: 
"Sawest     thou     Milosh     and     Brankovich,     my 

daughters'  lords  that  are?" 
Vladeta  answered: 

"At   Kosovo,  in  the  center 

of  the  war, 
There   saw   I   Milosh   Obilich   that  leaned   on   his 

broken  spear; 
He  is  dead  ere  now,  for  the  Moslems  pressed  on 

him  very  near. 
Vuk  Brankovich  I  saw  not.     Never  may  sun  him 

see! 
That  same  betrayed  Tsar  Lazar,  the  lord  of  thee 

and  me." 


[98] 


THE  MAID  OF  KOSOVO 

UP  rose  the  Maid  of  Kosovo  before  the  break  of 

day, 
On  a  Sunday  morn,  ere  the  bright  sun  had  risen 

on  his  way. 
Unto  her  milk-white   elbows   she  drew  the  white 

sleeves  up ; 
She  bore  three  loaves  in  a  basket,  and  in  either 

hand  a  cup ; 
Two   beakers   very  beautiful,   of  hammered   gold 

and  fine ; 
The  one  held  silver  water,  and  the  other  ruddy 

wine. 

She  came  to  level  Kosovo  in  pity  and  in  ruth, 
And  weeping  walked  along  the  place  of  the  battle 

of  the  youth, 
The  places  of  the  slaughter,  where  the  good  Tsar 

Lazar  stood; 
And  with  her  hands  she  lifted  up  the  heroes  in  their 

blood. 
The  gallant  lads  she  found  alive,  she  washed  with 

water  fine. 
She  gave  them  of  the  milk-white  loaves,  and  cheered 

them  with  ruddy  wine. 

To  Pavle  Orlovich  she  came,  the  ensign  of  his  lord : 
As  yet  he  was  alive,  although  sore  smitten  by  the 

sword ; 
But  by  a  shred  of  flesh  his  arm  at  the  red  shoulder 

hung, 
And  the  wound  showed  his  shattered  rib  and  the 

white  ghastly  lung. 

[99] 


She  moved  him  from  the  pool  of  blood,  she  washed 
him  with  water  fine ; 

She  gave  him  of  the  milk-white  loaves  and  of  the 
ruddy  wine. 

Gasping  for  breath  he  leaned  to  her,  and  trem- 
blingly he  said: 

"My  sister,  wherefore  turnest  thou  the  bodies  of 
the  dead? 

What   hard   doom    is   upon   thee,   thou   Maid   of 
Kosovo, 

That  thou  liftest  up  the  heroes  whose  crests  are 
fallen  low? 

Seekest  thou  then  for  some  young  man,  whose  last 
good  day  is  done? 

For  thy  father,  or  thy  brother,  or  thy  dear  broth- 
er's son?'* 
Answered  the  Maid  of  Kosovo: 

"0  champion 
unknown ! 

I  seek  not  father,  nor  nephew,  nor  a  brother  of 
mine  own. 

Knowest  thou,  O  my  brother,  how  the  good  Tsar 
Lazar  went 

With  the  squadrons  of  the  army  to  take  the  sacra- 
ment? 

By  the  fair  church  in  Samodrezha  the  thirty  mass- 
priests  stood 

For  three  weeks,  with  the  offering  of  Christ  his 
flesh  and  blood. 

Thereby  there  came  three  captains,  that  to  com- 
munion passed, 

[100] 


Milosh  and  Ivan  Kosanchich,  and  Milan  Toplitsa 

last. 

Milosh,  the  hero  of  the  earth,  through  the  gate  be- 
fore me  strode ; 
The  clanking  saber  at  his  side  rattled  along  the 

road; 
His  silver  plume  flashed  on  his  cap,  of  silk  was  his 

raiment  fair ; 
His  scarf  and  his  spotted  mantle,  likewise  of  silk 

they  were. 
And  forth  and  round  about  him  his  eyes  went  wan- 

deringly, 
Glancing  in  pride  from  side  to  side,  until  they  fell 

on  me. 
He  doffed  the  spotted  mantle ;  aloud  to  me  did  he 

cry: 
"  'Take  now  the  spotted  mantle,  to  remember 

me  thereby. 
Lo,  I  go  to  perish,  dearest,  in  the  leaguer  of  the 

tsar! 
Pray  for  me,  now,  beloved,  that  I  ride  back  from 

the  war, 
Returning  from  the  battle  with  a  great  victory 

home. 
Pray  now  for  me,  beloved,  that  the  good  hap  may 

come. 
To  Milan,  my  brother  sworn  to  me  by  God  and  by 

St.  John, 
I  will  give  thee  to  plight  thy  troth,  when  the  good 

morn  comes  on ; 
To  my  brother,  my  sworn  comrade,  of  the  living 

and  the  dead, 

[101] 


For  I  shall  be  his  groomsman  whene'er  he  shall  be 

wed.' 
"After  him  Ivan,  the  hero  of  the  earth,  before 

me  strode ; 
The  clanking  saber  at  his  side  rattled  along  the 

road; 
His  silver  plume  flashed  on  his  cap,  of  silk  was  his 

raiment  fair; 
His  scarf  and  his  spotted  mantle,  likewise  of  silk 

they  were. 
On  his  hand  he  wore  a  golden  ring,  and  his  eyes 

went  wanderingly, 
Glancing  in  pride  from  side  to  side,  until  they  fell 

on  me. 
He  took  the  ring  from  his  finger;  aloud  to  me  did 

he  cry: 

"  'Take,  maiden,  now  the   golden  ring,  to  re- 
member me  thereby. 
Lo,  I  go  to  perish,  dearest,  in  the  leaguer  of  the 

tsar! 
Pray  for  me  now,  beloved,  that  I  ride  back  from 

the  war, 
Returning  from  the  battle  with  a  great  victory 

home. 
Pray  now  for  me,  beloved,  that  the  good  hap  may 

come. 
To  Milan,  my  brother  sworn  to  me  by  God  and  by 

St.  John, 
I  will  give  thee  in  marriage,  when  the  good  morn 

comes  on. 
It  is  my  right  in  all  men's  sight  before  the  priest 

to  stand, 

[102] 


And  like  a  brother  give  thee  for  a  bride  into  his 

hand.' 
"After  him  Milan,  the  hero  of  the  earth,  before 

me  strode ; 
The  clanking  saber  at  his  side  rattled  along  the 

road; 
His  silver  plume  flashed  on  his  cap,  of  silk  was  his 

raiment  fair; 
His  scarf  and  his  spotted  mantle,  likewise  of  silk 

they  were. 
On  his  shoulders  was  a  golden  cloak,  and  his  eyes 

went  wanderingly, 
Glancing  in  pride  from  side  to  side,  until  they  fell 

on  me. 
He  took  the  cloak  from  his  shoulders,  and  aloud  to 

me  did  he  cry: 

"  'Take,  maiden,  now  the  golden  cloak,  to  re- 
member me  thereby. 
Lo,  I  go  to  perish,  dearest,  in  the  leaguer  of  the 

tsar! 
Pray  for  me  now,  beloved,  that  I  ride  back  from 

the  war, 
Returning  from  the  battle  with  a  great  victory 

home. 
Pray  now  for  me,  beloved,  that  the  good  hap  may 

come — 
A  fair  and  lovely  fortune  in  the  season  when  I  shall 

ride 
Hither  again  from  the  slaughter  and  the  battle  to 

my  bride.' 
"They  went  out  of  the  city  and  the  altars  where 

they  kneeled, 

I10S] 


And  through  the  broken  battle  I  seek  them  o'er 

the  field." 
Quoth  Pavle  to  the  maiden: 

"Sister,   incline 

thine  ear! 
Seest   thou   yonder,   sister,  the  splendor   of  that 

spear? 
To  the  stirrups  of  the  stallion,  the  brave  blood 

flowed  thereby, 

And  the  horses  of  the  heroes  were  drenched  bridle- 
high; 
Stained  was  the  shining  armor,  their  girdles  and 

their  greaves. 
They  are  dead,  sister.     In  their  blood  dip  not  thy 

milk-white  sleeves, 
But  get  thee  from  the  battle  to  thy  home  of  the 

white  hall." 
And  the  maid  heard,  and  with  a  cry  upon  her 

love  did  call. 
She  came  unto  her  white-walled  home,  weeping  and 

wild  and  pale, 

And  there  she  mourned  her  loss  alone,  with  moan- 
ing and  with  wail: 
"Ah  miserable!     If  I  reach  forth  to  touch  the 

good  green  pine, 
So  will  the  green  bough  wither  in  this  sad  hand  of 

mine." 


[104] 


WHEN  the  Turks  smote  off  Tsar  Lazar's  head  in 

Kosovo,  the  fair, 
No  Serb  came  forth  to  find  it,  but  a  young  Turk 

found  it  there; 
He  was  a  Turk  that  a  Servian  slave  to  a  Moslem 

master  bore. 
And   the   young  soldier  thereupon   he   spoke  his 

friends  before: 
"Brethren,  most  shameful  would  it  be  before  God 

who  is  One, 
That  this  lord's  head  should  the  eagles  tear,  and 

the  steeds  trample  thereon, 
And  the  legions  of  the  heroes." 

In  the  skirt  of  his 

spotted  cloak 
He  bore  Saint  Lazar's  head  where  forth  a  spring 

of  water  broke. 

Into  the  spring  of  water  he  lowered  the  holy  head, 
And  there  it  lay  in  the  cool  spring  till  forty  years 

were  sped. 
But  the  fair  body  at  Kosovo,  that  was  so  white  and 

wan, 
The  eagles  did  not  tear  it,  nor  the  steeds  trample 

thereon, 
Nor  the  legions  of  the  heroes. 

Now  praise  to  the 

Lord  God's  might! 
There  were  young  carters  that  went  forth  from  the 

town  of  Skupi  the  white; 
To  Nissa  and  to  Vidin  had  they  set  out  to  go 

[105] 


With  Greeks  and  Bulgars ;  and  they  camped  one 

night  at  Kosovo. 

The  carters  ate  their  dinner,  and  thirsty  they  be- 
came; 
And  the  candle  of  their  lantern  they  lighted  at  the 

flame; 
Over  Kosovo  up  and  down  a  water-spring  they 

sought, 
And  them  their  fortune  at  that  hour  to  the  spring 

of  water  brought. 
One  of  them  spake:     "A  shining  moon  behold  in 

the  water  fair!" 
And  the  second  answered:     "Brother,  no  shining 

moon  is  there." 
The   third   was   silent   and  nothing   said,   but  he 

turned  his  eyes  abroad 
To  the  east,  and  called  on  Saint  Nicholas,  and  on 

the  very  God: 
"O  God  and  Father  Nicholas,  succor  me  now !"  he 

said, 
And  he   stepped   into   the   spring  therewith,   and 

forth  he  drew  the  head 
Of  Lazar  the  Saint  of  Servia,  and  threw  it  on  the 

grass ; 
Then  he  drank  the  water  in  a  cup,  for  a  thirsty 

man  he  was. 
Before  the  thirsty  lads  had  drunk,  they  looked 

where  the  head  had  been 
On  the  black  earth,  but  no  head  at  all  on  the  green 

grass  was  seen. 
Forth  went  the   sacred  head   alone,   on   the  way 

across  the  plain, 

[106] 


Till  it  came  to  the  holy  body  and  was  one  with  it 

again. 
And  when  was  risen  the  morning  that  broke  so  free 

and  fair, 
To  the  priests  their  tidings  the  carters  bore,  and 

many  priests  came  there. 
There  were  full  three  hundred  ancient  priests  and 

twelve  great  bishops  more, 

And  likewise  at  that  season  there  came  the  patri- 
archs four; 

In  Pech  1  the  one  was  ruler,  and  one  of  Tsarigrad,2 
One  in  Jerusalem,  and  the  last  the  earth  for  his 

province  had. 
And  they  put  on  the  sacred  robes  with  monks'  hats 

for  the  head, 
And  with  them  took  the  holy  book,  and  mighty 

prayers  they  said. 
And  three  days  that  great  vigil  and  three  nights 

did  they  keep; 
They  sat  not  down,  nor  rested,  nor  laid  them  down 

to  sleep, 
But  aye  they  prayed  Saint  Lazar,  that  he  would 

grant  them  to  know 
What     church    he     loved:     Would    he    rest    in 

Krushedol  or  Opovo, 
Beshenovo,  or  Yasak,  or  perchance  he  fain  would 

lie 
In  Shfshatovats  or  Rakovats,  Kuvezhdin,  or  Jifsha 

thereby, 

1  Ipek. 

2  The  tsar's  city,  Constantinople. 

£107] 


Or  haply  in  Macedonia?  He  will  have  no  church- 
ing there ; 

He  will  go  to  the  church  that  he  founded,  Rava- 
nitsa,  the  fair. 

Under  Kuchay  he  stablished  it,  the  mountain  sheer 
and  dread ; 

He  built  it  here  among  us  with  his  treasure  and  his 
bread ; 

And  because  of  it  no  wretched  tears  by  the  father- 
less were  shed. 


[108] 


UROSH  AND  THE   SONS  OF  MARNYAVA 

IN  the  fair  field  of  Kosovo  were  four  pavilions 

pight 
By  the  fair  church  of  Kosovo,  Samodrezha  the 

white. 
Vukashin  lay  in  one  fair  tent,  and  Lord  Uglyesha 

was  nigh; 
Goyko  the  duke  and  Urosh,  the  tsar's  son,  lay 

thereby. 
The  tsars  rob  one  another  of  the  empire  of  the 

tsars, 
And  they  yearn  to  slay  each  other  with  the  gilded 

scimitars. 
They  know  not  whose  is  the  empire.     "It  is  mine," 

Vukashin  saith, 
But   the   great  Lord   tJglyesha  answers:     "It   is 

mine,  upon  my  faith." 
And  Goyko,  the  proud  voyvoda,  saith  likewise: 

"It  is  mine"; 
But  the  son  of  the  tsar,  Prince  Urosh,  in  silence 

must  he  pine, 
For  he  dares  not  break  his  silence  before  those 

angry  ones, 
Before    the    three    great    brothers,    Marnyava's 

mighty  sons. 
Vukashin  writeth  a  letter,  and  a  herald  doth  he 

send, 

To  Nedelko,  the  archpriest,  in  the  city  of  Prizrend ; 
And  he  bids  him  come  to  Kosovo,  that  he  may  there 

decide 

£111] 


To  whom  of  the  four  princes  the  realm  belongs,  this 

tide; 
For  he  had  given  the  sacrament  unto  the  glorious 

tsar, 
And  shriven  him ;  and  the  ancient  books,  with  the 

archpriest  they  are. 

Uglyesha  writeth  a  letter  and  a  herald  doth  he  send 
To  Nedelko,  the  archpriest,  in  the  city  of  Prizrend ; 
And  Goyko,  the  great  voj^voda,  he  writeth  yet  a 

third, 
And  sendeth  a  fiery  messenger  to  the  archpriest 

with  his  word; 
And  the  son  of  the  tsar,  Prince  Urosh,  sent  a  letter 

likewise  away. 
In  secret  the  fiery  heralds  went  with  their  letters 

on  that  day. 

By  the  house  of  the  Archpriest  Nedelko,  in  Priz- 
rend, the  white  town, 
The  heralds  met,  but  the  archpriest  out  of  his  house 

was  gone, 
For  he  sat  at  the  service  in  the  midst  of  matin 

song. 
So   fierce   were   those  fierce  heralds,   so  keen  the 

strong  of  the  strong, 
That  they  came  not  down  from  the  chargers,  but 

through  the  door  did  dash, 
And  the  good  Archpriest  Nedelko  they  smote  with 

the  woven  lash: 
"Come  swift,  thou  priest,  to  K6sovo,  that  there 

thou  mayst  decide 
To  whom  of  the  four  princes  the  realm  belongs,  this 

tide; 


For  thou  didst  give  the  sacrament  unto  the  glorious 
tsar, 

And  shrovest  him,  and  the  ancient  books  of  learn- 
ing with  thee  they  are. 

If  thou  comest  not  to  Kosovo,  forthwith  thou  shalt 

lose  thy  head." 
Then  wept  the  Archpriest  Nedelko,  and  unto 

them  he  said: 

"Till  we  are  done  with  the  service,  get  hence,  ye 
strong  of  the  strong, 

And  it  will  be  shown  hereafter  to  whom  doth  the 

realm  belong." 

Out  rode  the  heralds  straightway.     When  the 
liturgy  was  done, 

Forth  came  the  Archpriest  Nedelko,  and  spake  to 

all  and  one: 

"With  me  the  tsar  took  sacrament,  to  me  he  did 
confess ; 

But  I  asked  not  of  his  kingdom,  but  of  his  wicked- 
ness. 

But  to  the  house  of  Marko  in  the  town  of  Prilip 
hie, 

For  Marko  was  my  pupil  to  read  in  charactery ; 

And  the  good  Marko  Kralyevich  was  a  scribe  be- 
fore the  tsar, 

And  the  books  of  yore  with  their  ancient  lore,  this 
day  with  him  they  are; 

And  who  shall  have  the  kingdom,  Prince  Marko 
shall  make  known. 

He  speaketh  the  truth,  for  he  feareth  none  save 
the  true  God  alone." 

[113] 


To  Prilip,  to  Prince  Marko's  house,  went  on  the 

heralds  four; 
They  came  unto  the  milk-white  house,  and  smote 

with  the  ring  on  the  door. 

And  Yevrosima  heard  it  and  called  unto  her  son: 
"Do  thy  father's  heralds  at  the  door  with  the  ring 

strike  thereon?" 
Marko  arose  and  opened  the  door.     They  bowed 

where  they  did  stand: 
"God  bless  thee,  Marko !"     But  Marko,  he  stroked 

them  with  his  hand: 
"Now  welcome,  sons !     With  the  champions  and 

the  tsars  are  all  things  well?" 
But  thereupon  the  heralds   down  on  their  knees 

they  fell: 
"The  lords  are  well,  Prince  Marko,  but  they  are 

not  at  peace  this  night; 

In  Kosovo  they  quarrel,  by  Samodrezha  the  white ; 
The  tsars  rob  one  another  of  the  empire  of  the 

tsars, 
And  they  yearn  to  slay  each  other  with  the  gilded 

scimitars ; 
But  to  whom  the  realm  belongeth,  no  man  of  them 

doth  know, 
Wherefore  they  cite  thee  to  tell  them  on  the  field  of 

Kosovo." 
Prince  Marko  went  into  the  house: 

"My  moth- 
er of  delight, 

In  Kosovo  they  quarrel,  by  Samodrezha  the  white ; 
The  tsars  rob  one  another  of  the  empire  of  the 

tsars, 

[114] 


And  they  yearn  to  slay  each  other  with  the  gilded 

scimitars ; 
But  to  whom  the  realm  belongeth,  no  man  of  them 

doth  know. 
Therefore  they  cite  me  to  tell  them  on  the  field  of 

Kosovo." 

Though  greatly  Marko  loved  the  truth,  she  con- 
jured him  the  more: 
"Let  not  my  rearing  be  accurst  in  thee,  the  son 

I  bore, 
For  thy  father  or  his  brethren  speak  not  false, 

whate'er  the  stress, 
But  according  to  the  living  God  speak  out  his 

righteousness. 
Hurt  not  the  spirit,  Marko ;  save  thou  the  soul,  my 

son. 
Rather  lose  life  than  that  the  soul  should  have  a 

stain  thereon." 
Marko  brought  forth   the   ancient  books,   and 

mounted  Dapple  the  gray ; 
On  Dapple's  back  he  rode  the  track  to  Kosovo  that 

day. 
And  when  he  came  to  the  king's  tent  Vukashin 

stood  thereby: 
"Here  is  my  good  son  Marko,  and  fortunate  am 

I! 
For  he  will  say,  I  trow,  this  day,  the  realm  of  the 

tsars  is  mine. 
Then  from  the  father  to  the  son  shall  the  realm 

stand  in  our  line." 
Marko  heard,  but  said  naught ;  from  the  tent  he 

turned  away. 

I 115  ] 


Voyvoda  Uglyesha  saw  him,  and  aloud  his  thought 

did  he  say: 
"Here  is  my  nephew  Marko,  and  a  lucky  man 

am  I! 
For  I  trow  he  will  say  to  me  this  day  that  mine  is 

the  empery. 
Say,   Marko,   that   the   realm   is   mine.     We   will 

share  the  government." 
But  Marko  the  Prince  said  nothing,  nor  turned 

unto  the  tent. 
Goyko,  the  voyvoda,  saw  him,  what  time  he  went 

thereby : 
"Here  is  my  nephew  Marko,  and  a  lucky  man 

am  I! 
He  will  say  that  unto  me,  Goyko,  the  empire  doth 

belong, 
Because  I  erstwhile  loved  him,  when  he  was  weak 

and  young. 

For  I  loved  him  very  dearly,  and  in  the  bosom  fold 
Of  my  mantle  did  I  keep  him  like  an  apple  of  red 

gold; 
Where'er  I  went  upon  my  steed  was  Marko  wont 

to  ride. 
Say  then,  Prince  Marko,  in  this  wise,  what  time 

thou  shalt  decide, 

That  all  the  empire  of  the  tsars  is  given  unto  me, 
And  thou  shalt  be  the  overlord,  and  I  the  tsar  at 

thy  knee." 
But  Marko  aye  kept  silence,  and  turned  not  to 

the  tent. 
To  Urosh'  white  pavilion  upon  his  way  he  went; 

[116] 


Unto  the  tsar's  fair  tent  he  rode.     Urosh  leaped 

up  awake 
From  the  fair  silken  cushions,  and  to  the  prince  he 

spake : 

"A  lucky  man  am  I  to-day ;  my  godfather  I  see ! 
Marko  the  Prince  will  say  to  whom  the  Servian 

realms  shall  be." 
Then  they  embraced  each  other,  and  wished  each 

other  well; 

And  sate  upon  the  cushions  until  the  evening  fell. 
When  the  dark  night  was  over,  and  the  white  morn- 
ing shone, 
They  rang  the  bells  for  matins,  and  to  church  the 

lords  are  gone. 
They  came  forth  from  the  service  before  the  church 

to  dine, 
And   then    they    ate    the    sugar,    and   drank    the 

brandy-wine. 
Marko  looks  on  the  ancient  books,  and  a  great 

word  saith  he : 
"O  thou,  my  sire,  Vukashin,  is  thy  realm  too 

small  for  thee? 
May  a  curse  go  out  and  through  it,  for  ye  seize 

another's  reign ! 

And   Uglyesha,   my    uncle,   too   small   is   thy    do- 
main? 
May  a  curse  go  out  and  through  it,  for  another's 

realm  would  ye  seize ! 
And  thou,  my  uncle,  Goyko,  too  strait  are  thy 

provinces  ? 
May  a  curse  go  out  and  through  them,  for  an 

other's  realm  would  ye  steal ! 
[117] 


See — and  may  God  forget  you! — what  the  book 

doth  reveal ! 
For  the  realm  belongeth  to  Urosh,  from  the  father 

to  the  son ; 
The  child  is  of  the  tsar  his  house,  and  in  him  the 

line  goes  on, 
And  the  tsar  left  it  to  him  at  the  season  when  he 

died." 
Vukashin,  when  he  heard  it,  drew  the  dagger 

from  his  side; 
On  his  son  leaped  Vukashin,  to  stab  him  in  that 

hour, 
And  Marko  fled  before  him,  for  he  had  not  will  nor 

power 
In  arms  against  his  father  to  lift  the  hand  and 

fight. 
Marko  ran  round  about  the  church,  Samodrezha 

the  white; 
Three  times  round  white  Samodrezha  the  circle  did 

they  make; 
The  king  well-nigh  had  caught  him,  when  a  voice 

to  Marko  spake: 
"Into   the    church,   Prince   Marko!"   the   voice 

from  the  church  did  say, 
"For  the  sake  of  truth  thou  wilt  perish  at  thy 

father's  hand  this  day." 
Marko  ran  hard  into  the  church  as  the  doors 

wide  open  drew ; 
Vukashin  fell  against  them  as  again  the  doors  shut 

to, 
And  smote  the  beam  with  his  dagger.     Therefrom 

did  the  red  blood  drain. 
[118] 


The  king  repented:     "By  the  one  God,  I  dread 

my  son  have  I  slain." 
A  voice  spoke  to  him  from  the  church:     "Dost 

hear  where  thou  dost  stand? 
Thou  smot'st  not  thy  son,  but  an  angel,  with  the 

dagger  in  thy  hand." 
The  king  was  wroth  at  Marko,  and  cursed  him 

thereupon : 
"My  son,  God  slay  thee !     Mayst  thou  have  nor 

sepulcher  nor  son  I 
May  the  soul  go  not  from  thee  till  thou  servest  the 

Turk  in  war!" 
His  father  cursed  him,  but  he  won  the  blessing 

of  the  tsar: 
"O  my  godfather  Marko,  may  God  thee  ever 

shield ! 
May  thy  face  shine  in  the  council ;  thy  saber  slash 

in  the  field! 
May  none  excel  thee  in  battle,  and  thy  name  far 

and  wide 
Be  everywhere  remembered  while  the  sun  and  moon 

abide!" 

So  spake  Vukashin  and  the  tsar,  and  so  did  it 
betide. 


[119] 


Two  sworn  brothers  were  riding  over  Miroch,  the 
mountain  fair; 

Voyvoda  Milosh  and  Marko  were  the  two  heroes 
there. 

Side  by  side  the  steeds  did  they  ride  as  they  bore 
the  spears  that  day ; 

One  kissed  the  face  of  the  other :  such  loving  broth- 
ers were  they. 

Then  Marko  on  Dapple  yearned  to  sleep ;  he  spake 

to  his  brother  sworn : 

"Voyvoda  Milosh,  heavily  by  sleep  am  I  over- 
borne. 

Sing  to  me,  brother,  and  cheer  me." 

"Prince 
Marko,  brother  mine," 

Said  Milosh,  "I  would  sing  to  thee,  but,  Marko,  I 
drank  the  wine 

In  the  mountain  with  Raviyoyla,  the  vila,  yester- 
night. 

She  forbade  me;  if  she  hears  me,  my  throat  and 

heart  will  she  smite." 

Prince  Marko  spake:     "Sing  brother,  nor  ever 
the  vila  fear, 

While  Dapple  and  I  and  the  war-club  with  six  gold 

knobs  are  here." 

Then  sang  Milosh,  the  voyvoda,  a  great  and 
beautiful  song 

Of  our  elders  and  our  betters  that  held  the  king- 
dom long 


In   famous   Macedonia,   and   the   troop   that  with 

each  did  go. 
The  song  was  pleasing  to  Marko,  and  he  bowed  on 

the  saddlebow. 
Prince  Marko  slept  in  the  saddle,  and  Milosh  sang 

on  the  track; 

And  the  vila  Ravfyoyla  heard  him,  and  sang  in  an- 
swer back. 

Milosh  sang,  and  the  vila  again  unto  him  sang. 
The    better    voice    had    Milosh,    and    angrily    she 

sprang 

Away  to  the  mountain  Miroch ;  with  two  white  ar- 
rows she  smote 
Voyvoda  Milosh  through  the  heart  and  likewise  in 

the  throat.1 
Said  Milosh: 

"Alas,  my  mother!     And  woe  unto 

Marko,  too! 
Alas,  my  brother,  the  vila  has  shot  me  through  and 

through ! 
Did  I  not  tell  thee  I  must  not  sing  on  Miroch  in 

our  course?" 
Marko  started  from  slumber,  and  sprang  from 

the  dappled  horse. 
Well  did  he  stretch  the  girth-straps  for  Dapple 

the  good  gray ; 
He  kissed  him,  and  embraced  him,  and  to  the  steed 

did  he  say: 

i  "They  must  have  had  a  singing  contest  before  this,  and 
the  vila  have  forbidden  him  to  sing  because  his  voice  was 
better  than  hers."  (Note  by  Karajich.) 


"Ah,  Dapple  the  steed,  of  all  my  strength  the 

great  right  wing  art  thou ; 
Ravfyoyla,  the  vila,  do  thou  overtake  her  now. 
I  will  shoe  thee  with  pure  silver  and  gold  of  the 

seventh  proof; 
I  will  cover  thee  with  silk  to  the  knee,  with  tassels 

thence  to  the  hoof; 
And  all  thy  mane,  moreover,  shall  be  mingled  with 

the  gold; 
And  I  will  deck  thy  trappings  with  small  pearls 

manifold. 
If  thou  dost  not  overtake  her,  I  will  put  out  both 

thine  eyes; 
I  will  break  thy  legs,  all  four  of  them,  and  leave 

thee  in  evil  guise; 
And  thou  shalt  struggle  from  fir  to  fir,  abandoned 

and  forlorn, 
Even   as  I,   Prince   Marko,  without  my  brother 

sworn." 
Prince  Marko  on  gray  Dapple's  back  forthwith 

himself  he  threw ; 
They  raced  across  Mount  Miroch.     O'er  the  trees 

the  vila  flew, 
And  desperately  Dapple  galloped  the  midst  of  the 

forest  through. 
At  first  nowhere  could  the  vila  be  seen  or  heard 

thereby ; 
But  at  last,  when  Dapple  saw  her,  he  leaped  three 

spear-lengths  high 
And  a  full  four  spear-lengths  forward.     Dapple 

gained  on  her  swift; 


In  her  distress  she  leaped  aloft  amid  the  clouds  and 

lift. 
Up  Marko  hurled  the  golden  mace,  the  weapon  of 

great  worth, 
And  smote  her  between  the  shoulders,  and  beat  her 

to  the  earth. 
Left  and  right  he  did  her  smite  with  the  golden 

club  that  day. 
"Why   shottest  thou  my  brother,  vila?     May 

the  good  God  thee  slay ! 
Give  thou  herbs  for  the  hero.     Ere  long  thou  shalt 

lose  thine  head." 

The  vila  besought  him  in  God's  name.     Implor- 
ingly she  said: 
"Prince  Marko,  my  sworn  brother,  God  and  St. 

John  before, 
Release  me  alive  in  the  forest,  to  search  Mount 

Miroch  o'er 
For  herbs  to  heal  the  hero,  and  his  fierce  wounds 

abate." 
Marko  harkened  her  prayer,  for  his  heart  was 

compassionate ; 

Alive  into  the  forest  he  let  the  vila  go. 
She  gathered  herbs  on  Miroch,  as  she  wandered  to 

and  fro, 
And  she  called  often:     "My  brother,  I  am  coming 

from  the  field." 
The  vila  gathered  many  an  herb,  and  the  hero's 

wounds  she  healed; 
And  the  lordly  throat  of  Milosh  was  better  than 

before, 

[123] 


And  the  strong  heart  of  the  hero  was  stronger  than 

of  yore. 
The    vila    went    unto    Miroch.     With    his    sworn 

brother  good, 
Went  Marko  to  Porech  country,  and  forded  Timok 

flood, 
Till  he  came  to  the  great  town  Bregovo  and  the 

Vidin  country-side. 

But  Raviyoyla,  the  vila,  to  the  other  vilas  cried: 
"Hear  ye,  my  friends,  the  vilas,  and  harken, 

and  give  ear: 
Shoot  no  hero  on  the  mountain  when  Marko  the 

Prince  is  near, 
Or  while  Dapple  and  he  and  the  war-club  with  six 

gold  knobs  are  here. 
What  I  have  suffered  at  his  hands,  I  have  not 

strength  to  say, 
And  hardly  out  of  them  at  last  alive  I  got  away." 


PRINCE  MARKO  AND  THE  SWORD  OF 
VUKASHIN 

THE  sultan  with  an  army  is  come  to  Kosovo; 
An  hundred  thousand  men  had  he  where  Sitnitsa 

doth  flow. 

With  a  saber  of  Damascus  his  herald  goeth  forth, 
And  full  three  hundred  ducats  the  naked  blade  is 

worth; 
And  likewise  was  the  scabbard  worth  ducats  fifteen 

score, 
And  the  cost  of  the  cord  of  the  scabbard  three 

hundred  ducats  more. 

No  one  was  found  for  money  to  buy  that  scimitar, 
But   chance   brought   the   Prince   Marko   on   the 

herald  of  the  tsar. 
Said  Marko :     "The  Damascus  blade,  thou  herald, 

show  to  me." 
The  herald  heard  and  gave  over  the  blade,  but  not 

a  word  said  he. 
Marko  said  to  the  herald,  as  he  looked  on  the 

saber  cold: 
"Forty-five  score  of  ducats  will  I  give  thee  of 

yellow  gold ; 
But  harken,  herald,  let  us  go  to  some  safe  place 

hereabout, 
That  I  may  count  before  thee  the  yellow  ducats 

out; 
For  I  would  not  ungird  me  of  the  three  gold  belts 

this  tide, 
Since  I  am  much  in  the  Turkish  debt  in  the  camp 

on  every  side, 

[125] 


And  I  deem  that  for  the  saber  they  will  not  let  me 

pay." 
The  Turk  would  hardly  await  him,  and  hastened 

on  the  way, 
And  along  the  water  of  Sitnitsa  they  speedily  are 

gone. 
Prince  Marko  there  ungirded  him  'neath  the  white 

bridge  of  stone; 
He  spread  a  mantle  of  the  green,  he  took  the  belts 

of  gold, 
And  out  he  shook  the  golden  belts  while  the  Turk 

the  ducats  told. 

Marko  looked  on  the  saber,  and  saw  thereon  dis- 
played 
Three  Christian  words  engraven  upon  the  shining 

blade ; 
And  first  "The  Saint  Demetrius,"  and  next  "The 

Archangel"  came, 
And  last  of  all  upon  the  blade  stood  King  Vuka- 

shin's  name. 
Marko  saw  and  forthwith  spake : 

"O  herald  of  the 

tsar, 
By  the  one  God  I  adjure  thee;  whence  came  the 

scimitar? 
Was  it  left  by  thy  father?     Did  thy  wife  bring 

it  to  thee? 
Or   was    it   won    in    battle,    perchance,    from    an 

enemy  ?" 
The  Turk  spake  unto  Marko: 

"By  God,  thou 

chief  unknown, 

[  126  ] 


Unto  thee  now  the  inward  of  this  matter  will  I 

own. 
It  was  not  left  by  my  father,  my  wife  brought  it 

not  to  me ; 

But,  chief  unknown,  I  won  it  from  a  single  enemy. 
When  with  the  Servian  empire  fell  both  tsars  at 

Kosovo, 
Murad  and  Lazar,  then  I  won  the  saber  from  the 

foe. 

Early  to  water  my  fat  steed  to  Sitnitsa  I  went, 
And  there  my  fortune  brought  me  to  a  green  silken 

tent. 
Within  was  a  wounded  warrior  most  fierce — God 

strike  him  dead ! — 
The  black  beard  of  his  lip  that  tide  over  his  breast 

it  spread. 
He  wore  a  great  green  mantle,  and  by  him  lay  the 

sword. 
When  the  wounded  one  beheld  me,  by  God  he  me 

implored : 
"  'Brother,  thou  champion  unknown,  now  smite 

not  off  mine  head ; 
Soon  will  my  soul  go  from  me,  for  my  wounds  are 

deep  and  dread. 
Wait  half  an  hour ;  by  Sitnitsa  there  shalt  thou  set 

my  grave. 
Three  belts  of  gold  are  on  me,  and  a  Damascus 

glaive 
That  is  worth  a  thousand  ducats,  and  here  is  my 

silken  tent.' 
"But  I  would  not  harken  his  prayer,  and  out 

with  him  I  went, 

[127] 


Dragging  the  wounded  hero.     My   saber  then  I 

drew, 
And  cut  off  his  head;  his  leg  I  grasped,  and  his 

arm,  and  straightway  threw 
The  hero  into  Sitnitsa,  where  swiftly  the  waters 

run. 
There  with  the  marvelous  booty  this  saber  for  thee 

I  won." 
When  the  Prince  Marko  heard  it,  to  the  herald 

did  he  say: 
"O  herald  of  the  Turkish  tsar,  may  God  reward 

thee  this  day ! 
That  was  my  own  dear  father,  even  Vukashin,  the 

king. 
Hadst  thou  waited  his  soul's  departure,  it  had  been 

a  better  thing, 
And  thou,  O  Turkish  herald,  wouldst  have  had  a 

better  grave." 
He  drew,  and  cut  the  Turk's  head  off  with  the 

Damascus  glaive. 
He  grasped  the  milk-white  hand  and  leg,  and  in 

Sitnitsa  he  threw 
The  herald  of  the  tsar  and  said:     "Go  thou  my 

father  unto!" 
To  the  army  Marko  wended  with  the  gold  and  the 

scimitar ; 

Said  the  janissaries:     "Prithee,  where  is  the  her- 
ald of  the  tsar?" 

But  to  them  said  Marko:     "I  pray  you,  janis- 
saries, begone! 
He  took  his  ducats  and  pennies  to  the  sea  to  trade 

thereon." 

[1*6] 


Said  the  Turks  one  to  the  other:     "Hard  must  the 

Moslem  strive, 
Who  cometh  to  Prince  Marko  a  bargain  with  him 

to  drive !" 


[129] 


MARKO  lay  on  the  tsar's  highway,  and  green  was 

all  his  gear, 
A  silver  cloth  was  on  his  face;  by  his  head  was 

planted  his  spear. 
By  the  spear  stood  Dapple,  but  on  it  a  great  white 

eagle  stayed; 
It  spread  its  wings  above  the  prince  and  gave  the 

hero  shade, 
And  water  in  its  beak  it  bore,  the  wounded  hero 

to  slake. 

But  a  vila  of  the  mountain  unto  the  eagle  spake: 
"In  the  name  of  God,  white  eagle,  how  hath 

Marko  stood  thine  aid, 
That  thou  spreadest  thy  wings  above  him  to  give 

the  hero  shade, 
And  bringest  water  in  thy  beak,  the  wounded  hero 

to  slake?" 

But  thereupon  the  eagle  unto  the  vila  spake: 
"Be  silent,  vila,  and  hold  thy  tongue.     What 

good  hath  come  to  me, 
Hath  aye  come  at  Prince  Marko's  hands.     Keep- 

est  thou  the  memory 
Of   the   day    the    army   perished    on    the    field    of 

Kosovo, 
And  both  tsars,  Lazar  and  Murad,  died  in  the 

overthrow  ? 
Up  to  the  stirrups  of  the  steed  that  day  the  red 

blood  ran, 
Unto  the  silken  girdle  of  many  a  fighting  man; 

£130] 


Horses  and  heroes  swam,  steed  by  steed,  and  hero 

hero  by, 
And  we  flew  up  hungry  and  thirsty,  the  vultures 

of  the  sky; 
We  fed  on  human  flesh,  we  drank  our  fill  of  human 

blood : 
My   wings   were   wet.     Forth  flamed  the   sun   in 

heaven  where  he  stood: 
My  wings  grew  stiff ;  my  feathers  in  flight  I  could 

not  wield; 
My  comrades  flew,  and  I  was  left  upon  the  level 

field. 
Heroes   and  steeds  rushed  onward,  and  me  they 

trampled  o'er. 
God  sent  Marko ;  he  lifted  me  up  from  the  heroes' 

gore 
And  put  me  behind   on  Dapple.     To  the  green 

wood  amain 
He  bore  me  and  tossed  me  into  a  fir;  and  down  the 

gentle  rain 
Descended  there  upon  me.     My  wings  were  washen 

clean, 

That  I  might  fly  thereafter  over  the  forest  green; 
And  there  I  met  my  comrades. 

"One  more  good  deed  to  me 
Did  the  good  Marko  Kralyevich.     Hast  thou  in 

memory 
How   the   town  burned   at   Kosovo?     Burnt  was 

Ajaga's  tower: 

Therein  my  little  eaglets  were  hidden  in  that  hour, 
And  Marko   gathered   all   of  them  in  his   silken 

bosom  fold, 


And  a  full  month  he  nourished  them  in  the  white 

house  of  his  hold, 
And  let  them  go  to  the  green  wood,  when  a  month 

and  a  week  were  told. 
And  this  did  Marko  for  me,  that  I  met  my  eaglets 

dear." 

Prince  Marko  is  remembered  like  a  fair  day  in 
the  year. 


[132] 


PRINCE  MARKO  with  his  mother  one  evening  sate 

alone. 
Said  his  mother: 

"Marko,  my  little  son,  old  is 

thy  mother  grown; 
No  more  can  she  prepare  for  thee  the  meal  whereon 

to  dine; 
She  cannot  light  a  torch  for  thee  or  serve  the 

ruddy  wine. 
Marry,  my  son,  a  woman  forthwith  to  take  my 

place." 

Marko  unto  his  mother  shortly  he  spake  apace: 
"In  God's  name,  my  ancient  mother,  I  have  been 

nine  realms  around, 
And  a  tenth,  the  Turkish  empire.     When  a  girl 

to  my  taste  I  found, 
She  would  not  have  been  to  thy  liking;  when  I 

found  a  friend  for  thee, 
Then  she  was  not  to  my  liking,  nor  desirable  to 

me. 

Except  for  one,  my  mother,  in  the  Bulgarian  land ; 
I  saw  her  in  Shishmanin's  palace;  by  a  cistern  did 

she  stand. 
When  I  looked  on  her,  my  mother,  the  grass  swam 

under  me ; 
There  is  the  maid  for  me,  mother,  and  a  dear  friend 

for  thee. 
Get  me  food  for  the  journey;  I  will  ask  for  the 

maiden's  hand." 

[133] 


She  waited  not,  nor  abided  till  the  dawn  shone 

in  the  land, 
But  she  baked  him  bread  with  sugar.     When  the 

dawn  broke  clear  and  fine, 
Marko  girded  himself  and  the  steed  and  filled  a 

skin  of  wine; 
He  hung  it  on  Dapple's  saddle,  and  his  mace  on 

the  other  hand ; 
On  Dapple  he  went  to  Shishmanin's  house  in  the 

Bulgarian  land. 

Afar  the  king  perceived  him.     Marko  he  came  be- 
fore; 
They  embraced  and  kissed  each  other,  and  asked 

how  they  them  bore. 
The  servant  to  the  cellars  went  with  the  faithful 

steed, 
But  the  king,  the  good  Prince  Marko  to  his  white 

house  did  lead. 
They  sat  down  at  the  ready  board  the  dark-red 

wine  to  drain; 
When   they  had   drunk  their  fill   thereof   Marko 

leaped  up  again. 
He  doffed  his  cap,  he  bowed  to  the  earth,  and  he 

asked  for  the  maid  of  the  king. 
The  king  said  naught,  but  gave  her ;  on  the  ground 

he  laid  a  ring, 
And  an  apple  thereby;  moreover  for  the  girl  he 

let  cut  a  shift. 
To  her  sisters  and  kinswomen  Marko  gave  many  a 

gift, 
He  gave  three  packs  of  treasure ;  and  there  a  month 

he  spent, 


Ere  to  gather  gay-clad  wooers  to  Prilip  the  white 

he  went. 

The  maid's  mother  bespoke  him:     "My  son-in- 
law,"  she  cried, 
"My  Marko,  let  no  stranger  be  the  bringer  of  the 

bride, 
But  rather  thine  own  brother  or  some  nephew  of 

thy  name, 
For  the  maid  is  passing  lovely  and  we  fear  some 

open  shame." 
There  bode  Prince  Marko  of  Prilip  the  remnant 

of  the  night; 
At  dawn  he  saddled  Dapple  and  rode  to  Prilip  the 

white. 
Near  the  town  his  mother  saw  him,  and  drew  near 

a  little  space, 
And  in  her  arms  she  took  him  and  kissed  him  on 

the  face. 
And  his  mother  asked  Prince  Marko,  as  he  kissed 

her  milk-white  hand: 
"My  son,  Prince  Marko,  art  thou  come  in  peace 

across  the  land? 
And  hast  thou  as  yet  discovered  a  daughter  dear 

for  me, 
A  maid  to  be  my  daughter  and  a  true  wife  to 

thee?" 
Marko  answered: 

"My  mother,  I  am  come  in 

peace  through  the  land; 
I  have  asked  and  won  in  marriage  a  maiden  to  my 

hand. 

[135] 


When  I  set  out  for  my  white  house,  then  the  maid's 

mother  cried: 

"  'My  Marko,  let  no  stranger  be  the  bringer  of 
the  bride, 

But  rather  thine  own  brother  or  some  nephew  of 
thy  name, 

For  the  maid  is  passing  lovely  and  we  fear  some 

open  shame.' 
"But,  mother,  I  have  not  a  brother,  no  nephew 

at  all  have  I." 
His  mother  spake: 

"Son  Marko,  be  troubled 
not  thereby. 

A  letter  in  fine  characters,  my  son,  thou  shalt  in- 
dite 

Unto  the  Doge  of  Venice,  and  bid  him  come  forth- 
right 

To  be  groomsman  at  thy  wedding,  with  five  hun- 
dred wooers  beside. 

Thou  shalt  write  to  Stevan  Zemlyich  to  be  bringer 
of  the  bride, 

With  five  hundred  wooers  likewise.     No  shame  at 

all  shalt  thou  fear." 

When  Marko  understood  her  speech,  he  hark- 
ened  his  mother  dear. 

He  wrote  the  letters  on  his  knee,  and  one  to  the 
doge  is  borne, 

And  one  to  Stevan  Zemlyich,  that  is  his  brother 
sworn. 

Time  passed;  the  Doge  of  Venice  came,  and  five 
hundred  wooers  beside ; 

[136] 


He  went  to  the  slender  tower,  but  they  to  the  lea- 
land  wide. 
In  a  little  while  came  Stevan  and  five  hundred 

wooers  fine. 
They  gathered  at  the  slender  tower  and  drank  their 

fill  of  the  wine. 
Then  they  went  to  the  court  of  Shishmanin  in  the 

Bulgarian  land, 
And  King  Shishmanin  received  them,  and  open  was 

his  hand 
To  the  heroes  in  the  houses  and  the  horses  in  the 

stall, 
And  three  white  days  he  kept  them,  and  they  rested 

one  and  all. 
When   out  broke  the   fourth  morning,   spake  the 

heralds  in  this  wise: 
"What  ho,  ye  gay-clad  wooers,  it  is  time  that 

ye  arise ! 
Short  are  the  days,  and  the  delays  at  nightfall  long 

are  they; 
Ye  should  take  thought,  ye  wooers,  to  wend  the 

homeward  way." 
King  Shishmanin  brought  gracious  gifts.     Fair 

hose  he  gave  to  one, 
To  another  he  gave  a  gallant  cloth  with  embroidery 

thereon ; 

He  gave  unto  the  groomsman  a  table  of  gold  well- 
tried, 
And  he  gave  a  golden  garment  to  the  bringer  of 

the  bride, 
And  a  great  war-steed  furthermore,  and  charged 

him  with  the  maid; 
[137] 


And  to  the  bringer  of  the  bride  the  king  moreover 

said: 
"Here  is  the  steed  and  the  maid  likewise  to  take 

to  Marko's  place: 
Give  him  the  maid;  the  steed  is  thine,  a  gift  of 

honor  and  grace." 
Forth  marched  the  gay-clad  wooers  through  the 

Bulgarian  land. 
Where  comes  good  fortune,  also  ill  fortune  is  at 

hand; 
For  on  that  tide  both  far  and  wide  the  wind  blew  in 

the  field, 
The  wind  stirred  lightly  the  maiden's  veil  and  the 

maiden's  face  was  revealed. 
The  Doge  of  Venice  saw  her.     His  head  for  grief 

ached  sore. 
He   scarce   could  wait  till  evening  the  land  had 

fallen  o'er. 
When  they  came  to  the  night  encampment,  the 

Doge  of  Venice  sped 
To  the  tent  of  Stevan  Zemlyich,  and  soft  to  him 

he  said: 
"O  Stevan,  the  bringer  of  the  bride,  give  me  thy 

sister  dear 
One  night  for  my  love,  and  thou  shalt  have  this 

bootful  of  treasure  here. 
Lo,  Stevan,  the  yellow  ducats!" 

But  Stevan  to 

him  did  cry: 
"Be  silent,  doge,  mayst  thou  change  to  stone !    Has 

it  entered  thy  mind  to  die?" 

[138] 


The  Doge  of  Venice  turned  him  back.     At  the 

second  camp  he  went 
And  spoke  to  Stevan  Zemlyich  in  the  midst  of  the 

white  tent: 
"I  prithee,  Stevan  Zemlyich,  give  me  thy  sister 

dear 
One  night  for  my  love.     Thou  shalt  have  therefor 

two  bootsfull  of  treasure  here. 
Lo,  Stevan,  the  yellow  ducats  1" 

Said  Stevan 
thereupon : 
"Go,    doge!     Mayst    thou    perish    straightway! 

Shall  my  sister  be  undone?" 
To  his  tent  went  the  doge.     When  the  third 

camp  was  pitched  at  eventide, 
The  doge  went  unto  Stevan,  the  bringer  of  the 

bride: 
"O  thou,  the  bringer  of  the  bride,  give  me  thy 

sister  dear 
One  night  for  my  love.     Thou  shalt  have  therefor 

three  bootsfull  of  ducats  here." 
Thereupon  Stevan  Zemlyich  was  finally  cajoled 
To  give  the  doge  his  sister  for  three  bootsfull  of 

yellow  gold. 
Stevan  took  up  the  ducats  and  the  doge  led  the 

maid 
By  the  white  hand  within  his  tent  and  softly  to  her 

said: 
"Sit  down,  sweet  bride,  that  thou  and  I  may  fondle 

each  other  now." 
But  answered  the  Bulgarian  bride: 

[139] 


"A   shame- 
ful groomsman  art  thou ! 

0  Doge  of  Venice,  beneath  us  the  earth  will  open 

wide, 
The  heaven  will  crack  above  us !     What  man  shall 

fondle  a  bride?" 
The  Doge  of  Venice  answered: 

"Speak  not  like 
a  fool  confessed! 

1  have  already,  dearest,  nine  christened  brides  ca- 

ressed, 
And  of  wives  four  and  twenty.     The  earth  it  gaped 

not  wide, 
Nor  did  the  heaven  crack  o'er  us.     Sit  down,  let 

me  fondle  thee,  bride !" 
But    the    bride    said: 

"Doge    of    Venice,    my 

groomsman,  harken  this. 
My  mother  dear  adjured  me  no  bearded  man  to 

kiss, 
But  a  young  and  beardless  hero,  such  as  Prince 

Marko  is." 
When  the  Doge  of  Venice  heard  it,  he  called 

swift  barbers  there; 
One  bathed  him,   and  the  second  he  shaved  him 

clean  and  fair. 
And  the  lovely  bride  bowed  over  in  the  place  where 

she  stood, 
And  picked  up  the  beard  and  wrapped  it  in  a  piece 

of  linen  good. 
Thereafter  the  Doge  of  Venice  the  barbers  drove 

outside, 

[140] 


And  said  unto  her  softly:     "Now  sit  thee  down, 

sweet  bride!" 
Then  answered  the  Bulgarian  girl : 

"When  Marko 

of  this  shall  hear, 
Three  heads,  O  Doge,  my  groomsman,  from  our 

bodies  he  will  shear." 
The  doge  said  unto  the  sweet  bride: 

"Speak 

not  so  foolishly ! 
There  in  the  midst  of  the  wooers  is  Marko  plain 

to  see, 

Where  his  fair  white  pavilion  he  did  himself  un- 
fold. 
Upon  the  summit  of  the  tent  is  an  apple  of  red 

gold, 
With  gems  so  bright  that  by  their  light  are  half 

the  wooers  seen  clear. 
But  at  my  side  sit  down,  O  bride,  that  we  may 

fondle  here." 
The  bride  said: 

"Wait   in   the   tent    a    space, 

thou  dearest  groomsman  of  mine, 
Till  I  look  on  the  sky  above  the  clouds,  if  it  be 

foul  or  fine." 
When  she  had  come  without  the  tent,  she  fled 

to  Marko  in  fear; 
The  girl  sprang  through  the  wooers  like  a  fawn 

of  a  single  year, 
To  the  tent  of  the  Prince  Marko,  that  down  to 

sleep  had  lain; 


And  the  girl  stood  before  him,  and  her  tears  ran 

down  like  rain. 
Then  Marko  leaped  to  his  feet  and  spake  to  the 

Bulgarian  bride: 
"What  a  wretch,  Bulgarian,  art  thou !    Couldst 

thou  not  e'en  abide 
Till  we  came  to  my  white  dwelling,  and  in  Christian 

guise  were  wed?" 
He  seized  the  saber  silver-wrought,  but  the  bride 

bowed  down  and  said : 
"Marko,  mine  is  no  wretch's  line,  but  a  house  of 

power  and  pride! 
The  wretches  are  thine,  thy  groomsman  and  the 

bringer  of  the  bride  I 
Thine  own  bride  Stevan  Zemlyich  to  the  Doge  of 

Venice  sold 
For  three  bootsfull  of  treasure,  ducats  of  yellow 

gold. 
Prince  Marko  haply  will  not  believe — if  thou  be- 

lievest  not  me, 
The  beard  of  the  Doge  of  Venice,  I  have  brought 

it  unto  thee." 
And  thereupon  she  opened  the  cloth  that  held 

it  wide. 
When  the  Prince  Marko  saw  it,  he  spoke  unto  the 

bride : 
"Sit  down,  fair  bride ;  on  the  morrow  I  will  look  the 

matter  o'er." 
Then  Marko  laid  him  down  again  to  slumber  there 

once  more. 


[142] 


But  when  on  the  morrow  morning  the  mighty  sun 
outbroke, 

Marko  leaped  nimbly  to  his  feet,  and  fastened  back 
his   cloak ; 

In  his  hand  he  took  the  heavy  mace,  and  then  away 
he  hied, 

To  bid   the   groomsman   good   morrow,   and   the 

bringer  of  the  bride. 

"Good  morrow,  bringer  of  the  bride,  and  grooms- 
man mine,"  said  he; 

"Bringer  of  the  bride  and  groomsman,  say,  where 

now  the  bride  may  be." 

Still  was  the  bringer  of  the  bride,  no  answer 
would  he  make ; 

But  unto  the  Prince  Marko  the  Doge  of  Venice 

spake : 

"How  now,   friend  Marko   the  bridegroom,   of 
such  strange  whims  men  are, 

That  hardly  a  man  may  make  a  jest  without  be- 
getting a  war !" 

"Evil  is  the  jest  of  thine,  O  doge!"  thereto  did 
Marko  say, 

"No  jest  is  a  shaven  beard!     Where  now  is  thy 

beard  of  yesterday?" 

Yet  more  to  him  in  answer  had  the  Doge  of  Ven- 
ice said; 

Marko  swung  the   great   saber,  and  cut   off  the 
doge's  head. 

Forthwith  fled  Stevan  Zemlyich,  but  Marko  ran 
amain, 

And  smote  him  with  the  saber,  and  cut  him  right 
in  twain. 

[143] 


In  the  tent  himself  he  girded,  and  saddled  Dapple 

aright ; 
Forth   went  the   gay-clad  wooers,   and   came  to 

Prilip  the  white. 


[144] 


PRINCE  MARKO  AND  ALIL  AGA 

THERE   once  were  two   sworn  brothers;   through 

Tsarigrad  l  rode  they : 
The  one  is  the  Prince  Marko,  the  other  Kostadin 

the  Bey. 
Said  Marko: 

"Bey  Kostadin,  sworn  brother  of 

mine  own, 
Now  that  I  ride  in  Tsarigrad  some  woe  may  strike 

me  down. 

Mayhap  they  will  summon  me  to  the  lists;  a  sick- 
ness will  I  feign, 
Heartache,   the   evil   illness,   that  is   so   fierce   a 

pain." 
So  Marko  feigned  a  sickness,  though  none  he 

had  indeed; 
Of  his  grievous  cunning  he  bowed  him  on  the  back 

of  Dapple  the  steed; 
He  leaned  his  breast  on  the  saddlebow,  through 

Tsarigrad  he  rode. 
Good  meeting  befell  him.     Before  him  one  Alii  Aga 

strode, 
The  tsar  his  man,  and  thirty  were  his  janissaries 

there. 
Said  Alii  Aga  to  Marko : 

"To  the  lists  now  let  us 

fare, 
Thou  hero  good,  Prince  Marko ;  with  the  shafts  let 

us  make  play. 

i  The  t tar's  city,  Constantinople. 
[14.5] 


And  if  God  and  good  luck  serve  thee,  and  thou 

shootest  beyond  me  this  day, 
Be  there  given  thee  my  white  houses,  that  heritage 

of  mine, 
And  the  Turkish  matron,  my  faithful  wife.     But 

if  my  shot  pass  thine, 
To  thy  houses  and  thy  faithful  wife  faith  I  will 

pay  no  heed ; 
I  only  hope  to  hang  thee  high  and  seize  on  Dapple 

the  steed." 
Said  Marko: 

"Let  be,  thou  Turk  accurst,  how 

shall  I  shoot  with  thee, 

When  such  a  bitter  sickness  has  taken  hold  of  me, 
Heartache,  the  evil  illness,  that  is  so  fierce  a  pain? 
I  cannot  hold  myself  on  the  steed:  how  shall  we 

shoot  amain?" 
But  the  Turk,  Alii  Aga,  he  will  not  let  him 

alone. 
The  right  skirt  of  Marko's  tunic,  he  set  his  hand 

thereon ; 
Marko  drew  from  his  belt  the  knife  and  cut  the 

skirt  away: 
"Go  to,  wretch,  Alii  Aga!     May  a  plague  strike 

thee  this  day !" 

But  the  Turk  Alii  Aga  he  will  not  let  him  alone. 
The  left  skirt  of  Marko's  tunic,  he  set  his  hand 

thereon ; 
Marko  drew  the  knife  from  his  belt  and  cut  the 

skirt  away: 
"Go  to,  wretch,  Alii  Aga!     May  God  in  heaven 

thee  slay !" 

[146] 


But  the  aga  will  not  let  him  be.     With  his  right 

hand  Dapple's  rein 
He  seized ;  his  left  hand  thrust  therewith  in  Marko's 

bosom  amain. 
Marko  flashed  like  the  living  fire ;  straight  he  rose 

on  the  steed; 
He  grasped  the  reins,  and  Dapple  pranced  as  he 

were  mad  indeed. 
Hero  and  horse  ran  the  wild  course.     He  called 

Kostadin  Bey: 
"To  the  cloth  market,  Kostadin,  my  brother, 

take  thy  way; 

Bring   thence    a    Tatar   arrow    with   nine    hawk- 
feathers  white. 
I  will  go  forth  with  the  aga,  that  the  cadi  may 

judge  aright, 
And  no  matter  arise  hereafter,  sufficient  cause  for 

a  fight." 
The  bey  went  to  the  cloth  market ;  with  the  aga 

Marko  hied 
To  the  cadi.     The  aga  his  slippers  doffed  and  sat 

at  the  cadi's  side ; 
And  out  he  took  twelve  ducats  that  he  laid  on  the 

cadi's  knee: 
"Set  no  just  terms  for  Marko ;  and  here  are  ducats 

for  thee!" 
But  Marko  knew  the  Turkish  tongue.     No   coin 

had  he  in  the  place; 
Forthwith  before  his  bosom  Prince  Marko  held  his 

mace: 
"Dost  thou  hear  me,  master  cadi;  set  thou  just 

terms  for  me ! 

[147] 


Since  my  club  with  the  six  spikes  of  gold  thou 

easily  mayst  see. 
If  I  strike  thee  with  the  war  club,  thou  wilt  need 

no  plaster  therefor ; 
Thou   wilt    forget   the    courtroom,   nor  want  the 

ducats  more." 

Fever  fell  on  the  master,  the  cadi,  to  behold 
The  great  war  club  before  him,  with  the  six  spikes 

of  gold. 
He  straightway  wrote  the  terms  for  them,  but  his 

hands  shook  for  dread. 
Then  out  to  the  single  combat  at  once  the  heroes 

sped; 

And  thirty  janissaries  with  Alii  Aga  strode, 
But  none  but  Greeks  and  Bulgars  on  Marko's  part 

abode. 
When  they  came  to  the  lists  spoke  Alii,  the  aga  of 

the  tsar: 
"Shoot,   captain,   thyself   that   vauntest   for  a 

great  man  of  war, 

With  thy  brag  in  the  tsar's  council  that  thy  shoot- 
ing is  so  strong 
Thou  canst  hit  an  eagle  of  the  cross,1  that  leads 

the  clouds  along." 
Said  Marko: 

"I  am  a  hero  good,  but  older  than 

I  art  thou ; 
For,  hero,  thine  is  the  lordship,  and  thine  is  the 

empire  now; 

i"Aquila   imperialis,   which   has   a   sort   of   cross   on  its 
back."     Budmani,  Croatian  (Servian)  Dictionary. 

[148] 


Thine  is  the  right  of  the  elder,  and  since  thou  hast 

summoned  me, 

Shoot  now,  Turk,  in  the  order  of  thy  seniority." 

Thereupon  Alii  Aga  his  first  white  arrow  shot; 

An  hundred  yards  and  twenty  was  it  measured 

from  the  spot. 
Marko  his  first  white  arrow  two  hundred  yards  he 

drave ; 
The  Turk  a  full  three  hundred  hath  sent  his  second 

stave. 
Prince  Marko  the  second  arrow  five  hundred  yards 

he  sent, 

But  the  Turk's  third  white  arrow  a  full  six  hun- 
dred went. 

Meanwhile  the  Bey  Kostadin  by  Marko  did  alight, 
And  bore  the  Tatar  arrow  with  nine  hawk-feathers 

white. 
Marko  unloosed  the  Tatar  shaft ;  through  the  dust 

and  mist  it  blazed, 
And  forthwith  vanished  from  them,  however  hard 

they  gazed ; 
Nor  could  it  e'er  be  measured.     Hot  tears  the  aga 

shed; 
With  Marko,  calling  on  God's  name,  in  his  despair 

he  pled: 
"Marko,  who  art  my  brother  sworn,  in  the  name 

of  God  and  St.  John, 
By  thy  good  law ;  my  house  is  thine,  for  thee  to 

seize  thereon, 
And  the  Turkish  matron,  my  true  wife,  is  thine  to 

lead  away: 

Only  I  prithee,  brother,  hang  me  not  up  this  day !" 
[149] 


But  Marko  spake : 

"May  God  on  high  forth- 
with destroy  thy  life ! 
If  thou  callest  me  brother,  wherefore  dost  thou 

offer  me  thy  wife? 
Thy  wife  is  not  needful  to  me.     We  are  not  as  the 

Turks  in  this ; 
With  us  the  wife  of  a  brother  even  as  a  sister  is.1 

i  "An  old  Servian  custom  still  surviving  in  many  districts 
is  the  adoption  by  two  men  or  boys  of  each  other  as  'brother,' 
or  by  girls  as  'sister,'  or  sometimes  by  two  of  different  sex 
as  brother  and  sister.  The  brother,  in  that  case,  would  be 
a  relative  of  the  girl,  too  near  in  blood,  according  to  Servian 
usage,  to  marry  or  admit  of  any  but  fraternal  affections 
between  the  two.  It  would  be  sacrilege  and  illegal  for  them 
to  marry.  This  system  is  and  was  the  literal  application 
of  the  Christian  principle  of  'brotherhood,'  developed  into 
an  institution  during  the  bitterest  times  of  oppression  by  a 
foreign  foe.  Two  young  men  going  into  battle  bound  them- 
selves as  brothers  in  ties  of  close  fealty  which  endured 
through  all  trials.  The  oath  of  fidelity  for  life  was  sworn 
before  the  altar  in  the  church  and  consecrated  by  the  priest, 
and  often  sealed  by  the  exchange  of  a  drop  of  blood  drunk 
in  a  cup  of  red  wine.  If  one  died  the  surviving  one  was, 
in  all  respects,  like  a  true  brother  to  the  family  of  his  dead 
'pobratim.'  This  tie  is  considered  most  sacred  by  Servians 
and  cannot  be  broken,  no  matter  how  severely  it  may  be 
tried  by  any  circumstances  that  may  arise.  It  is  recognized 
by  a  law  conferring  right  of  inheritance  as  well  as  family 
obligations.  Milosh  Obrenovich,  of  the  war  of  Servian 
liberation,  was  the  pobratim  of  the  Turkish  commander  Ali 
Aga  Sertchesma,  a  Mohammedan  Servian,  who  was  after- 
ward opposed  to  him  in  battle.  When  the  aga's  army  was 
vanquished,  Milosh  was  a  brother  to  him  and  protected  his 
personal  life,  liberty,  and  property,  as  he  in  similar  circum- 
stances protected  Milosh's  life."  Lazarovich-Hrebelianovich, 
The  Servian  People  (New  York,  1910),  vol.  1,  pp.  73,  74. 

Just   above,   Alii   Aga  has   addressed  Marko  as   "sworn 
brother,"  as  a  compliment  or  appeal. 

£150] 


I  have  a  faithful  wife  at  home,  even  Yelitsa  nobly 

born. 
And  I  would  forgive  thee  all,  brother,  but  my  tunic 

hast  thou  torn; 
Give  me  three  loads  of  money  to  patch  my  skirts 

apace !" 
Merrily  then  the  Turk  leaped  up  and  kissed 

Prince  Marko's  face. 
Marko  for  three  white  days  he  kept  within  the 

lordly  hall, 
And  gave  him  three  loads  of  money ;  and  his  lady 

therewithal 
Gave  to  the  prince  a  mighty  shirt  sewn  with  a 

thread  of  gold, 
And  also  a  silver  towel.     Three  hundred  horsemen 

bold 
The  aga  gave  him  for  escort,  when  he  rode  to  his 

house  afar. 
Long  they  abode  thereafter,  and  held  the  land  for 

the  tsar: 
When  the  foe  invaded,  Marko  and  Alii  beat  them 

back; 
Wherever  fortresses  were  ta'en,  they  marshaled  the 

attack. 


[151] 


PRINCE  MARKO  AND  MINA  OF  KOSTUR 

PRINCE  MARKO  and  his  mother  had  sat  them  down 

to  dine; 
On  the  dry  bread  they  feasted,  and  they  drank  the 

yellow  wine. 
And  unto  the  Prince  Marko  came  letters  three  that 

day: 
One  was  from  Bajazet  the  tsar,  in  white  Stamboul 

that  lay; 
One  from  the  town  of  Budim,  from  the  king  thereof 

had  come; 
And  one  from  Yanko  the  voyvoda,  in  Sibin  that 

had  his  home. 
The  letter  from  Stamboul  city,  that  was  written 

of  the  tsar, 
To  the  army  summons  Marko  for  the  keen  Moorish 

war. 
In   the  letter  out  of  Budim,  the   second   of   the 

three, 

The  king  with  the  wooers  bids  him  that  the  grooms- 
man he  may  be, 
That  the  king  may  lightly  marry  the  queen  of 

whom  he  is  fain. 
The  letter  from  Sibin  the  city,  it  beareth  a  message 

plain, 
That  as  godfather  he  shall  christen  the  children 

of  Yanko  twain. 
Marko  speaks  to  his  mother : 

"My  mother,  old  art  thou ; 
Council  me,  mother,  shall  I  go  to  the  tsar's  army 

now? 


Shall  I  go  among  the  wooers,  to  marry  the  king 

amain  ? 
Or  unto  Yanko  of  Sibin,  to  christen  his  children 

twain  ?" 
His    mother   speaketh   to   Marko:     "My    little 

son,"  saith  she, 

"A  man  goes  unto  the  wooers  because  of  jollity; 
As  a  godfather  a  man  goes  forth  because  of  the 

law  of  God ; 
But  a  man  goes  to  the  army  because  of  the  fear  of 

the  rod. 
Go,  my  son,  to  the  army,  for  God  will  hold  his 

hand; 
But  the  Turks,  an  thou  come  not  thither,  they  will 

not  understand." 
Marko    obeyed   his    mother.     To   the   host   he 

marched  away; 
He  took  Goluban  the  servant ;  to  his  mother  did  he 

say: 
"Hear,  mother!     Of  my  fortress  do  thou  early 

shut  the  gate, 
And  when  ariseth  the  morning,  do  thou  throw  it 

open  late; 
Since  with  Mina  accurst  of  Kostur  at  odds  am  I, 

and  I  fear, 

Mother,  that  my  white  houses  the  rogue  will  plun- 
der here." 
Marko   to   the   tsar's    army   with   Goluban    the 

servant  went. 
On  the  third  evening  of  the  march,  when  they  had 

pitched  the  tent, 

[153] 


Marko  supped,  and  Goluban  served  out  the  yellow 

wine. 
Marko  took  up  the  goblet,  and  slumber  fell  on  his 

eyne; 
He  dropped  the  cup  on  the  table,  but  the  wine 

spilled  not  on  the  board. 
Goluban  the  servant  waketh  him ;  "Prince  Marko," 

he  saith,  "my  lord, 
Ere  this  hast  thou  gone  to  the  army,  but  thou  hast 

not  slumbered  so  deep, 
Nor  dropped  the  cup  from  thy  fingers." 

But 

Marko  started  from  sleep, 
And  said: 

"Goluban,  my  servant,  thou  art  faith- 
ful, as  I  deem. 
I  closed  mine  eyes  for  a  little,  and  I  dreamed  a 

wondrous  dream. 
Exceeding  strange  was  the  dream,  and  exceeding 

strange  the  hour. 
A  tuft  of  mist  blew  outward  from  Kostur  the  white 

tower : 
The  mist  enveloped  Prilip ;  in  the  white  mist  Mina 

came. 
He  will  plunder  my  white  houses  and  burn  them 

with  the  flame ; 
Over  my  mother's  body  will  he  trample  with  the 

steed ; 
My  faithful  bride  upon  that  tide  a  captive  will 

he  lead; 
My  horses  from  the  stables,  he  will  drive  them  all 

away; 

[  154  ] 


The  money  in  my  treasury  he  will  carry  off  that 

day." 
To  Marko   said  Goluban:     "Fear  not,  Prince 

Marko.     In  sooth, 
Good  heroes  ever  dreamed  good  dreams.     Dreams 

lie,  but  God  is  truth." 
When  they  were  come  to  Tsarigrad,1  the  tsar 

sent  forth  his  host, 
Over  the  blue  sea  went  they  forth  to  the  fierce 

Moorish   coast; 

And  four  and  forty  cities  have  they  ta'en  over  sea. 
They    came   under   Kara   Okan,   and   years   they 

fought  there  three ; 
Okan  they  smote,  and  never  could  they  storm  it  in 

the  war. 
Marko  smote  down  the  Moorish  chiefs  and  bore 

their  heads  to  the  tsar. 
The  tsar  gave  bakshish  to  Marko,  and  wroth  the 

Turks  did  it  make ; 
And  they  came  in  anger  to  the  tsar,  and  unto  him 

they  spake: 

"Tsar  Bajazet,  this  Marko,  no  hero  at  all  is  he; 
He  cleaveth  and  bringeth  for  bakshish  the  heads  of 

the  slain  to  thee." 
Marko  heard  it,  and  forthwith  to  the  great  tsar 

did  he  pray: 

"My  father  by  adoption,  to-morrow  is  the  day 
Of  St.  George,  my  own  good  patron,  and  let  me, 

tsar,  withdraw 
To  hold  my  patron's  festival  by  custom  and  by 

law; 

i  The  tsar's  city,  Constantinople. 
[155] 


And  Alii  Aga,  my  brother  sworn,  likewise  do  thou 

release, 
That  he  and  I  together  may  drink  the  wine  in 

peace." 
The  tsar  sent  forth  Prince  Marko,  for  naught 

else  could  he  do, 
To   hold   his   patron's    festival,   and   released   his 

brother  too. 
And  into  the  green  forest  forthwith  Prince  Marko 

sped, 
Nor  far  from  the  tsar's  army  his  white  pavilion 

spread ; 

To  tipple  on  dark  liquor  he  sat  him  on  the  grass, 
And  with  him  Alii  Aga,  his  brother  sworn  that 

was. 
And  the  Moorish  watch  discovered,  when  the  fair 

daybreak  shone, 
How  forth  from  the  tsar's  army  Marko  the  Prince 

was  gone. 
Then  shouted  all  the  Moorish  watch:     "O  furious 

Moors,  set  on! 
The  hero  on  the  great  gray  steed — the  terrible  is 

gone !" 
The  Moors  set  on,  and   of  the  host  slew  thirty 

thousand  men; 
And  the  tsar  wrote  a  letter  unto  Prince  Marko 

then: 
"My  good  son  by  adoption,  come  quickly  here 

again, 
For  thirty  thousand  men  of  mine  have  been  in  battle 

slain!" 

[156] 


But    Marko    said:     "How    then   may    I    come 

quickly,  father  mine? 
For  as  yet  I  have  not  drunken  my  fill  of  the  yellow 

wine, 

And  much  less  have  I  started  my  holiday  to  hold." 
And  lo,  upon  the  morrow,  when  broke  the  morn- 
ing cold, 
Then  shouted  all  the  Moorish  watch:     "O  furious 

Moors,  set  on! 
The  hero  on  the  great  gray  steed — the  terrible  is 

gone !" 

The  Moors  set  on,  and  of  the  host  slew  sixty  thou- 
sand men; 
Once  more  the  great  Tsar  Bajazet  wrote  to  Prince 

Marko  then: 
"My  good  son  by  adoption,  come  quickly  here 

again, 
For  sixty  thousand  men  of  mine  have  been  in  battle 

slain !" 
But  Marko   said:     "My  father,  a  little  must 

thou  wait ; 
I  have  not  yet  regaled  my  friends  as  well  befits  their 

state." 
On  the  third  day  shouted  the  Moorish  watch: 

"O  furious  Moors,  set  on! 
The  hero  on  the  great  gray  steed — the  terrible  is 

gone !" 
The  Moors  set  on,  and  slaughtered  an  hundred 

thousand  men; 
And  the  tsar  wrote  a  letter  unto  Prince  Marko 

then: 

[157] 


"Before  God  for  my  foster  child  thee,  Marko, 

will  I  own; 
Come  very  quickly,  for  the  Moors  my  camp  have 

overthrown !" 
Marko  mounted  on  Dapple,  he  rode  to  the  tsar's 

array; 
When  day  broke,  the  two  armies  they  clashed  in 

the  melee. 
When  the  Moorish  watch  saw  Marko,  they  cried: 

"Ye  Moors,  begone! 
The  hero  on  the  great  gray  steed — the  terrible, 

comes  on!" 
Marko  smote  on  the  Moorish  host ;  three  ways  their 

host  he  drave. 
He  slashed  throughout  one  army  with  the  edges  of 

the  glaive, 
The  second  of  the  armies  on  Dapple  he  trampled 

o'er, 
And  herded  the  third  before  the  tsar.     But  Marko 

was  wounded  sore; 
Seventy  wounds  at  the  Moors'  hands  on  Marko's 

body  there  are. 
On  the  tsar's  breast  f  alleth  Marko,  and  to  him  saith 

the  tsar: 
"Marko,  my  good  foster  child,  by  thy  wounds 

now  art  thou  slain? 
Can  the  doctors  with  their  wrappings  recover  thee 

again?" 
Prince  Marko  then  made  answer:     "No  deadly 

wounds  they  are, 
And  I  deem  that  I  shall  recover."     And  thereupon 

the  tsar 

[158] 


Thrust  hand  into  pouch  and  to  him  a  thousand 

ducats  gave, 
That  the  Prince  Marko  might  go  forth  his  wounds 

to  heal  and  lave ; 
And  the  tsar  sends   forth  two   faithful  lads,  lest 

Marko  the  Prince  should  die. 
But  Marko  sought  not  a  doctor;  from  inn  to  inn 

did  he  hie, 
And  ever  sought  Prince  Marko  where  the  best  wine 

was  to  drain. 
Scarce   had  he  drunk  his  fill  thereof,  when  his 

wounds  were  healed  again. 
But  a  fine-written  letter  to  the  Prince  Marko 

came, 
That  his  houses  all  were  plundered  and  ravaged 

with  the  flame, 
And  the  body  of  his  mother  trampled  over  by  the 

steed, 

And  his  faithful  wife  a  captive  his  enemy  did  lead. 
Then  Marko  mourned  and  to  the  tsar,  his  foster 

father,  said: 
"My  foster  father,  my  white  house  is  ravaged  in 

the  raid; 
My  faithful  bride  upon  this  tide  a  captive  do  they 

lead; 
Over  my  mother's  body  have  they  trampled  with 

the  steed; 
The  money  in  my  treasury  is  stolen  from  me  this 

day: 

Mina  of  Kostur,  he  it  was  who  carried  it  away." 
The  tsar  spake  comfort: 

[159] 


"Foster  son,  my  Marko, 

do  not  fear. 
If  these  thine  houses  have  been  burned,  I  w.ill  build 

thee  better  here ; 
Beside  my  houses  and  like  to  mine  shall  they  be 

built  for  thee. 
If  thy  gold  is  stolen,  a  farmer  of  my  taxes  shalt 

thou  be, 
And  thou  shalt  gather  treasure.     If  thy  wife  is  led 

away, 
I  will  give  thee  a  better  lady  upon  the  wedding 

day." 
Said  Marko: 

"My  foster  father,  glory  to  thee 

again  1 
When  thou  buildest  the  houses  for  me,  orphans  will 

curse  me  then, 
Saying:     'This    rascal    Marko,    his    houses    were 

burned  of  late ; 

Now  may  these  new-built  for  him  be  likewise  deso- 
late!' 
If  thou  makest  me  farmer  of  taxes,  till  I  bind  poor, 

needy  men, 
I  cannot  gather  the  taxes,  and  orphans  will  curse 

me  then, 
Saying :     'This  rascal  Marko,  what  gold  he  had  of 

late 
Was  stolen ;  what  he  hath  presently,  may  it  too  be 

desolate !' 
To  another  how  wilt  thou  wed  me,  while  yet  my 

wife  doth  live? — 

Three  hundred  janissaries  I  prithee  to  me  give; 
[160] 


Forge  for  them  crooked  pruning  hooks  and  of  slen- 
der hoes  no  lack ; 
And  to  white  Kostur  will  I  go,  if  perchance  I  may 

win  her  back." 
Three  hundred  janissaries  were  his  at  the  tsa/'s 

command ; 
The  tsar  forged  crooked  pruning  hooks  and  slender 

hoes  to  their  hand. 
To    the   three   hundred    Marko   his    counsel    gave 

aright : 
"Go,   my  three  hundred   brethren ;   go   now  to 

Kostur  the  white. 
When  ye  are  come  to  Kostur,  the  Greeks  will  be 

merry  thus: 
'Here  are  laborers ;  cheap  enow  will  they  tend  our 

vines  for  us !' 
But  do  ye  naught,  my  brethren.     Abide  in  Kostur 

the  town ; 
Drink  the  clear  wine  and  brandy,  till  thither  I  come 

down." 

The  three  hundred  j  anissaries  they  went  to  Kos- 
tur the  white, 

But  Marko  to  Mount  Athos,  unto  the  holy  height ; 
And  there  he  took  communion  and  moreover  did 

confess 
For  the  blood  he  had  shed,  then  clad  him  in  a  black 

c&loyer's  1  dress ; 
He  let  his  beard  to  the  girdle  grow,  and  a  monk's 

hat  put  on  his  head. 

iMonk  of  the  Greek  church;  see  Byron,  Childe  Harold, 
ii,  49. 

[161] 


Then  he  leaped  to  the  back  of  Dapple,  to  Kostur 

the  white  he  sped. 
When  he  came  to  Mina  of  Kostur,  there  Mina  sat 

to  dine, 
And  Marko's  wife  served  Mina  the  cups  of  yellow 

wine: 
"In  God's  name,  thou  black  caloyer,"  did  Mina 

to  him  say, 
"Tell  me,  prithee,  where  gottest  thou  the  little 

dapple  gray?" 
Prince  Marko  said: 

"Friend  Mina,  by  the  true 

God  do  I  swear, 
In  the  fierce  Moorish  country,  with  the  tsar's  host 

was  I  there. 
There  was  a  fool,  Prince  Marko,  that  dying  there 

I  saw, 
And  I  buried  him  according  to  our  custom  and  our 

law. 
A  gift  for  his  soul's  salvation  they  gave  this  steed 

to  me." 
When  Mina  of  Kostur  heard  it,  he  leaped  up 

joyfully, 
And  said: 

"Nine  years  have  I  waited  until  these 

tidings  came! 
For  Marko's  house  have  I  plundered  and  ravaged 

with  the  flame ; 
His  faithful  wife  have  I  made  a  slave,  but  I  would 

not  break  her  vow, 
Black  priest,  till  Marko  perished,  and  thou  shalt 

marry  me  now!" 

£162] 


Up  Marko  took  the  holy  book,  and  thereupon 

did  wed 

Mina  unto  the  woman  he  had  ta'en  to  his  own  bed. 
Then  sat  they  down  to  speak  fair  words  and  drink 

the  yellow  wine. 
Said  Mina: 

"Hearest   thou,   Yelitsa,   O  heart 
and  soul  of  mine? 
Till  now  wast  thou  Marko's  lady ;  henceforth  thou 

art  Mina's  wife ! 
Go  now  to  the  treasure  house  below,  I  prithee,  soul 

of  my  life, 
And  bring  three  cups  of  ducats  to  give  the  caloyer 

black." 
Yelitsa  brought  from  the  treasure  three  cups  of 

ducats  back; 
She  took  not  Mina's  money,  but  Marko's.     A  rusty 

glaive 
She  brought  up  with  the  money,  and  to  the  priest 

she  gave: 
"Here  is  for  thee,  black  caloyer,  a  gift  for  Marko's 

sake." 
Marko  took  up  the  saber,  and  looked  at  it,  and 

spake : 
"Mina,  the  lord  of  Kostur,  is  it  seemly  in  thine 

eyes, 
To  dance  here  at  thy  wedding  after  the  monkish 

wise  ?" 
Quoth  Mina  of  Kostur  to  him :     "Black  caloyej, 

to  thee 

Surely  it  is  permitted.     Wherefore  should  it  not 
be?" 

[163] 


Marko  leaped  on  his  nimble  feet  twice  and  thrice 

him  about; 
The  tower's  foundations  trembled  as  he  drew  the 

saber  out. 

He  drew  the  rusty  saber,  he  swung  it  left  and  right ; 
The  head  from  Mina's  shoulders  at  one  stroke  did 

he  smite. 
From  his  white  throat  he  shouted :     "Lord  Mina's 

days  are  done ; 

Ho,  all  my  janissaries!  my  laborers,  come  on!" 
Three  hundred  janissaries  through  Mina's  man- 
sions came; 
They  plundered  his  white  palace  and  ravaged  it 

with  flame. 
Marko  brought  home  his  faithful  wife  and  Mina's 

horde  along, 
And  went  unto  white  Prilip  with  chanting  and  with 

song. 


[164] 


PRINCE  MARKO  AND  BEY  KOSTADIN 

PRINCE   MARKO   and   Bey   Kostadin,  brothers   in 

God  were  they ; 

They  rode  their  steeds  together.     Outspoke  Kos- 
tadin the  Bey: 
"Prince   Marko,   now  I  prithee,  thou   art  my 

brother  sworn; 

Come  to  me  in  the  autumn,  on  St.  Demetrius'  morn, 
The  feast  day  of  my  patron  saint.     Much  honor 

wilt  thou  see, 

And  a  fair  feast  and  a  welcome  becoming  my  de- 
gree." 
Said  Marko: 

"Boast  not  of  thy  feast !     When 
I  sought  for  my  brother  born, 
Andriya,  I  dwelt  in  autumn  with  thee.     On  St. 

Demetrius'  morn, 
The  feast  day  of  thy  patron  saint,  I  saw  the  feast 

of  thy  pride, 

And  also  in  the  selfsame  hour  three  cruel  deeds  be- 
side." 
Said    Bey     Kostadin:     "Marko,    my     brother 

sworn  art  thou; 
Say  to  me  of  what  cruel  deeds  thou  speakest  to  me 

now." 
Said  Marko: 

"The  first  cruel  deed  after  this 
wise  befell. 

There    came    two    orphans    unto   thee   that   thou 
mightst  feed  them  well 

[165] 


With  the  white  bread,  and  give  them  the  ruddy 

wine  to  drain. 
But  thou  saidst:     'Ye  mere  scum  of  the  earth, 

now  get  you  hence  amain ! 
Ye  shall  not  defile  the  wine  before  my  gentlefolk 

this  day.' 
Bey,  I  pitied  the   orphans   and  with  them  went 

away; 
And  I  took  them  to  the  market  and  fed  them  on 

white  bread, 
And  gave  them  to  drink  of  the  ruddy  wine,  and 

clad  them  in  satin  red, 

And  in  green  silk  moreover.     Unto  thy  house  again 
I  sent  them,  and  looked  to  see  thee,  how  them  thou 

wouldst  entertain. 
One  thou  tookest  on  either  hand ;  to  the  table  thou 

leddest  them  then : 

'Eat  and  drink,'  thou  saidst,  'ye  sons  of  gentle- 
men!' 
"Thy  second  cruel  deed  was  this.     When  ancient 

squires  forlorn 
Came  there,  who  had  lost  their  money,  and  whose 

scarlet  was  outworn, 
Thou  evermore  didst  set  them  at  the  foot  of  the 

table  there; 
But  whoso  of  the  younger  squires  at  thy  festival 

that  were, 
Who  had  gained  new  hordes  of  money,  and  whose 

scarlet  was  fresh  and  new, 
Evermore  thou  broughtest  them  the  head  of  the 

board  unto ; 

£166] 


Thou  didst  pour  the  wine  and  brandy  before  them 
fast  and  free; 

There  was  a  feast  and  welcome,  befitting  thy  de- 
gree. 

"This  is  thy  third  cruel  deed,  O  bey.     Father 
and  mother  are  thine; 

Neither  is  ever  at  thy  board  nor  draineth  first  the 
wine." 


[167] 


PRINCE  MARKO  AND  THE  DAUGHTER 
OF  THE  MOORISH  KING 

His  mother  asks  Prince  Marko : 

"Marko,  my  little 

son, 

So  many  monasteries  wherefore  hast  thou  begun? 
Hast  thou  sinned  before  God?     Or  by  good  hap 

hast  thou  won  the  gold  abroad?" 
Marko  of  Prilip  answered: 

"I  will  tell  in  the 

name  of  God. 
Once,  when  I  was  in  the  Moorish  land,  at  dawn  to 

a  cistern  fair 

I  went,  that  Dapple  might  drink  thereof;  and  be- 
hold, at  the  water  there, 
Were  twelve  Moors.     Out  of  my  due  time  I  wished 

to  water  the  steed; 
The  twelve  Moors  would  not  let  me,  and  a  battle 

did  we  breed. 
Thereat  I  drew  the  heavy  mace,  and  smote  a  black 

Moor  down. 

We  smote  against  each  other,  eleven  against  one. 
Two  I  smote  down,  and  ten  of  them  came  furiously 

at  me. 
Then  nine  of  them  must  I  abide,  for  I  had  stricken 

three. 
The  fourth  fell ;  eight  were  the  champions  against 

me  that  did  drive. 
But  I  struck  again ;  on  the  red  ground  lay  ruddy 

corpses  five. 

[168] 


I  slew  the  sixth,  but  was  taken  by  the  six  that  were 

left  alive. 
They  bound  me,  and  they  bore  me  to  the  Moorish 

king  along; 

And  the  king  of  the  Moors  threw  me  into  the  dun- 
geon strong. 

Seven  years  was  I  in  it :  when  summer  was  at  hand 
I  knew  not,  nor  when  winter  had  come  across  the 

land; 
Except  that,  when  in  winter  the  girls  the  snowballs 

cast, 
Then  would  they  toss  a  snowball  into  the  dungeon 

fast; 
And  then  I  knew  it  was  winter,  as  I  lay  within  the 

tower. 
In  the  summer,  they  would  throw  me  a  sprig  of 

basil  flower, 
And  I  knew  it  was  summer.     The  eighth  year  in 

prison  that  I  was, 

I  wearied  not  of  prison,  but  of  a  Moorish  lass. 
Unto  the  Moorish  Sultan  the  daughter  dear  was 

she; 
Night  and  morn  to  the  window  of  the  tower  she 

summoned  me: 
"  'Marko,  poor  lad,  in  the  dungeon  I  prithee  rot 

not  here, 
But  give  true  pledge  thou  wilt  take  me  to  be  thy 

true  love  dear, 
If  I  free  thee  from  the  dungeon,  and  thy  Dapple 

from  the  hold. 
Marko,  unto  thy  heart's  desire  will  I  gather  ducats 

of  gold.' 

[169] 


"When  I  saw  that  might  was  against  me,  and 
strength  compelling  me, 

I  took  my  cap  from  off  my  head,  and  swore  to  it 
on  my  knee, 

A  firm  pledge  to  the  cap  I  swore: 

'Thee  I  will 
never  leave; 

A  firm  pledge,  and  moreover,  ne'er  will  I  thee  de- 
ceive. 

E'en  the  sun  is  false ;  he  warms  not  winter  as  sum- 
mertide — 

Never  will  I  renounce  the  pledge;  thereby  will  I 

abide.' 

"Then  thought  the  Moorish  maiden  that  unto 
her  I  swore. 

One  night,  at  fall  of  darkness,  she  opened  the  dun- 
geon door 

And  led  me  out  of  the  dungeon,  and  Dapple  from 
the  hold, 

And  a  better  horse  for  herself.     On  both  were  hol- 
sters full  of  gold ; 

She  brought  a  silver-hilted  sword.     On  the  horses 
we  laid  hand, 

And  forthwith  galloped  onward  over  the  Moorish 
land. 

When  the  dawn  shone,  my  mother,  I  sat  me  down 
to  rest; 

And  the  Moorish  maid,  with  her  black  arms  she 
clasped  me  to  her  breast. 

When  I  looked  on  her,  my  mother,  she  was  black 
and  her  teeth  were  white, 

£170] 


And  it  was  a  thing  unpleasing  and  dreadful  in  my 

sight. 
The  silver-hilted  saber   forth  from  the  sheath  I 

drew; 
I  smote  her  under  her  silken  belt;  the  blade  cut 

through  and  through. 
I  seized  on  Dapple ;  still  the  head  of  the  Moorish 

maid  spake  on : 
'My  brother  Marko,  wretched  lad,  leave  me  not 

here  alone.' 
Then,  mother,  I  sinned  in  the  sight  of  God,  but 

gained  much  gold  and  gear, 
Whereby  the  monasteries  and  churches  fair  I  rear." 


[171] 


PRINCE  MARKO'S  PLOWING 

WITH  his  mother,  Yevrosima,  his  thirst  did  Marko 

slake 
On  the  red  wine.     When  they  had  drunk,  to  him 

his  mother  spake: 
"O  thou,  Prince  Marko,  prithee  cease  from  the 

ravage  and  the  raid; 

Never  on  earth  is  evil  with  a  good  deed  repaid. 
Weary  is  thy  mother  of  washing  from  thy  shirts 

the  crimson  stain. 
But  do  thou  now  yoke  ox  to  plow,  and  plow  the 

hill  and  the  plain. 
Sow  thou  the  white  wheat,  little  son,  that  thou 

and  I  may  sup." 
Marko  harkened  his  mother,  and  he  yoked  the 

oxen  up; 
He  plows  not  the  hill,  nor  the  valley ;  but  he  plows 

the  tsar's  highway. 
Some  j  anissaries  came  thereby ;  three  packs  of  gold 

had  they: 
"Plow  not  the  tsar  his  highway,  Prince  Marko," 

said  they  then. 
"Ye  Turks,  mar  not  my  plowing!"  he  answered 

them  again. 
"Plow  not  the  tsar  his  highway,  Prince  Marko," 

they  said  anew. 
"Ye  Turks,  mar  not  my  plowing!"  he  answered 

thereunto. 

But  Marko  was  vext;  in  anger  he  lifted  ox  and 
plow, 

[172] 


And  the  Turkish  janissaries  he  slew  them  at  a 

blow, 
And  their  three  packs  of  treasure  to  his  mother  he 

bore  away : 
"Lo,  mother,  what  my  plowing  hath  won  for  thee 

to-day !" 


[173] 


MARKO  DRINKS  WINE  IN  RAMAZAN 

THERE  was  an  edict  sent  abroad  by  the  Tsar  Suley- 

man 
That  none  should  drink  the  yellow  wine  in  the 

month  of  Ramazan, 

That  none  should  wear  green  tunics,  nor  silver- 
inlaid  dirks, 
And  that  none  should  dance,  moreover,  with  the 

women  of  the  Turks. 
But  Marko  dances  among  them,  and  inlaid  with 

silver  wan 
Is  his  blade,  and  green  is  his  tunic,  and  he  tipples 

in  Ramazan. 
And  the  Turkish  priests  and  pilgrims,  he  maketh 

them  drink  likewise. 
And  the  Turks  go  to  the  palace  unto  Suleyman's 

assize : 
"Father  and  mother  of  us  all  art  thou,  Tsar 

Suleyman. 
Saith  not  thine  edict:  none  shall  drink  liquor  in 

Ramazan ; 

And  that  none  shall  wear  green  tunics,  nor  silver- 
inlaid  dirks ; 
And  that  none   shall   dance,   moreover,   with  the 

women  of  the  Turks? 
Now  Marko  dances  among  them;  and  inlaid  with 

silver  wan 
Is  his  blade ;  and  green  is  his  tunic ;  and  he  tipples 

in  Ramazan. 
Wine  he  may  drink  and  welcome,  if  it  seem  good 

in  his  eyes, 

[1ft] 


But  the  Turkish  priests  and  pilgrims,  he  maketh 

them  drink  likewise." 
When  the  tsar  heard  their  story,  he  summoned 

his  heralds  twain: 
"Go,   heralds,   to   Prince   Marko,   bid   him    come 

hither  amain." 
Forth  issued  the  two  heralds ;  upon  their  way  they 

went, 
And  they   found  Prince  Marko   drinking  in   the 

shadow  of  his  tent. 
And  a  cup  that  held  twelve  measures  is  ready  to 

his  hand. 
The  heralds  twain  gave  unto  him  the  word  of  the 

tsar's  command: 
"Dost   thou  then  hear,   Prince  Marko?     It  is 

good  in  the  tsar's  eyes 
That  thou  come  to  his  council,  and  the  court  of 

his  assize." 
O,  angry  was  Prince  Marko !     He  snatched  the 

goblet  up, 
And  he  smote  the  tsar's  two  heralds  in  his  anger, 

with  the  cup. 
The  cup  rang  and  the  head  rang;  the  blood  and 

wine  ran  free. 
And  Marko  went  to  the  tsar's  assize,  and  sat  at 

the  tsar's  right  knee. 
And  the  black  cap  of  sable  fur  he  pulled  across 

his  face, 
And  he  laid  his  saber  across  his  breast,  and  his 

hand  upon  his  mace: 
"My  foster  child,  Prince  Marko,"  said  the  Tsar 

Suleyman, 

[175] 


Mine   edict   saith:   none   shall   drink   wine  in   the 
month  of  Ramazan ; 

And  none  shall  wear  green  tunics,  nor  silver-in- 
laid dirks, 

And  none  shall  dance,  moreover,  with  the  women 
of  the  Turks. 

Now  here   be  worthy  Moslems  that  have  spoken 
evilly. 

Alas,  my  poor  son  Marko,  I  wot  they  have  slan- 
dered thee  I 

That  thou  dancest  with  Turkish  matrons,  and  in- 
laid with  silver  wan 

Is  thy  blade;  and  green  is  thy  tunic;  and  thou 
tipplest  in  Ramazan ; 

And  the  Turkish  priests  and  pilgrims,  thou  mak- 
est  them  drink  likewise ! 

Now    wherefore   pullest   thou,   my   son,   thy    cap 
across  thine  eyes? 

Why  is  thy  mace  beside  thee,  and  thy  saber  across 

thy  breast?" 
And     forthwith     strong    Prince     Marko    Tsar 

Suleyman  addressed: 

"0  thou,  my  foster  father,  the  great  Tsar  Suley- 
man, 

It  is  permitted  of  my  faith  to  drink  in  Ramazan. 

And  for  the  priests  and  pilgrims,  my  honor  would 
be  gone, 

If  they  should  look  upon  me,  and  I  should  drink 
alone. 

If  I  wear  a  good  green  tunic,  I  am  young;  it  be- 
comes my  youth. 

[176] 


If  I  gird  an  inlaid  saber,  I  paid  my  money   in 

sooth. 
If  I  dance  with  the  Turkish  women,  O  tsar,  I  am 

yet  unwed, 
And  once,  O  tsar,  a  woman  had  come  not  to  thy 

bed. 
If  I  pull  my  cap  on  my  forehead,  it  burns,  for  I 

speak  with  the  tsar. 
And  for  the  freeing  of  my  mace,  and  drawing  the 

scimitar, 
O  tsar,  in  my  heart  I  fear  me  that  battle  is  hard 

at  hand: 
It  is  ill  in  battle  the  nearest  to  Marko,  the  Prince, 

to  stand." 
The  tsar  looked  in  all  quarters  another  man  to 

see, 
But  nearer  to  Prince  Marko  there  was  no  man  than 

he; 
Nearest  was  the  Tsar  Suleyman.     He  drew  back 

in  the  hall, 
But  Marko  followed  onward,  and  drove  him  to  the 

wall. 
From  his  pouch  drew  Tsar  Suleyman  an  hundred 

ducats  fine, 
And  gave  them  to  Marko,  saying:     "Marko,  go 

drink  the  wine." 


£177] 


THE  DEATH  OF  MARKO  KRALYEVICH 

PRINCE  MARKO  rose  up  early  on  Sunday  before 

the  sun, 
On  Mount  Urvina  by  the  seacoast.     And  as  he 

rode  thereon, 
Dapple  the  stallion  staggered  sore;  from  his  eyes 

ran  bitter  tears. 
Marko  it  grieved.     He  spake  to  the  steed: 

"A 

hundred  and  sixty  years, 
Dapple,  my  gallant  stallion,  are  gone  since  I  came 

on  thee. 
Never  hast  thou  staggered;  yet  to-day  hast  thou 

staggered  under  me, 
And  thou  sheddest  tears.     God  knoweth  there  is 

no  good  from  the  sign: 

The  one  of  us  is  in  danger ;  thy  life  it  is  or  mine." 
While  Marko  spake,  a  vila  on  Urvina's  steep 

side 
In  summons  to  Prince  Marko  lifted  her  voice  and 

cried: 
"Knowest  thou,  Marko,  my  brother  sworn,  why 

stumbles  Dapple,  thine  horse? 
He  sorrows  for  thee,  his  master,  since  soon  will  ye 

part  perforce." 
Said  Marko  to  the  vila : 

"May  thy  throat  ache 

for  this ! 
How  should  I  part  with  Dapple?     Cities  and  em- 

peries 

[178] 


Have  I  not  passed  over  and  traversed,  from  the 

east  unto  the  west? 
And  Dapple,  my  steed,  was  ever  of  all  good  steeds 

the  best; 
And  I  was  the  best  of  the  heroes.     He  shall  not 

from  me  be  led, 
While  upon  Marko's  shoulders  remaineth  Marko's 

head." 
Said  the  vila: 

"Marko,    my    brother    sworn, 

none  shall  take  Dapple  so. 
Neither  shalt  thou  die  at  a  hero's  hands  by  any 

saber  blow, 
Nor  by  the  shock  of  the  heavy  mace,  nor  piercing 

of  the  spear; 
For  any  hero  of  the  earth,  Prince  Marko,  have  no 

fear. 
But  Marko,  God  shall  slay  thee,  the  ancient  slayer 

of  men. 
If  thou  wilt  not  believe  me,  go  up  to  the  mountain 

then. 
Aloft  shalt  thou  see  two  slender  firs  on  the  left 

and  on  the  right; 

They  have  overhung  the  mountain  with  the  sum- 
mits of  their  might. 
And  all  the  air  is  spicy  with  their  fair  needles 

green; 
And  there  runneth  a  spring  of  water  the  slender 

trees  between. 
There  turn  and  dismount  from  Dapple;  to  a  tree 

the  steed  shalt  thou  tie. 

[179] 


Raise  thyself  over  the  water-spring  that  bubbles 
up  hard  by, 

And  look  at  thy  face  in  the  water.     Thou  shalt 

see  when  thou  shalt  die." 

Marko  obeyed.     Aloft  he  looked  on  the  left  and 
on  the  right 

At  the  firs  that  overhung  the  mount  with  the  sum- 
mits of  their  might, 

And  all  the  air  was  spicy  with  the  fair  needles 
green. 

There  Marko  halted  Dapple  in  a  little  space  be- 
tween, 

And  to  a  fir  tree  in  the  midst  the  charger  did  he 
tie. 

He  raised  himself  o'er  the  water-spring  that  bub- 
bled up  hard  by ; 

And  when  Marko  looked  on  the  water,  he  saw  when 
he  should  die. 

He  wept  apace  and  spake  apace: 

"Ah,   lying 
world,  fair  flower — 

Fair  wast  thou  and  too  little  have  I  roamed  thee 
in  my  hour, 

Three  hundred  years ;   and  now  must  part  from 

thy  pleasure  and  thy  power!" 
From  his  girdle  the  Prince  Marko  drew  out  the 
iron  glaive, 

And  he  went  to  the  steed  Dapple,  and  Dapple's 
neck  he  clave, 

That  Dapple  might  come  never  to  a  Turk,  a  prize 
of  war, 

[180] 


And  do  him  bitter  service  bearing  water  in  the 

jar. 

When  he  had  slaughtered  Dapple,  he  buried  Dap- 
ple the  steed; 
A  better  grave  the  horse  he  gave  than  to  Andrew, 

his  brother,  indeed. 
The  mighty  glaive,  thereafter,  he  broke  in  pieces 

four, 
Lest  it  should  come  into  Turkish  hands,  and  the 

Turks  should  be  glad  therefor, 
And  rejoice  for  the  sword  of  Marko  to  their  hand 

that  had  fallen  then ; 
And  lest,  moreover,  he  should  be   curst  by  any 

Christian  men. 
When  he  had  broken  the  saber,  in  seven  the  spear 

broke  he, 
And  threw   it   among  the   fir  twigs.     The   rough 

mace  mightily 
He  grasped,   and  from  Urvina  hurled  it  into  the 

thick  blue   sea; 
And  Marko  said:     "When  that  club  of  mine  aris- 

eth  out  of  the  main, 

Then  will  there  be  a  hero  upon  the  earth  again." 
When  he  had  ruined  his  weapons,  then  pen   and 

ink  he  drew 
From  his  belt,  and  from  his  pocket  white  paper 

fresh  and  new. 
And  he  writes  a  letter: 

"Whoever  over  Urvina 

shall  fare 
To  the  cold  spring  between  the  firs,  and  finds  brave 

Marko  there, 

[181] 


Let  him  know  forthwith  that  perished  at  last  is 

Marko  the  bold. 
About  him  are  three  money-belts.     What  treasure 

do  they  hold? 
Therein  is  a  lordly  treasure  of  ducats  of  yellow 

gold. 
One  belt  will  I  give  with  my  blessing  to  him  who 

buries  me; 
With  the  second  belt  let  churches  be  sculptured 

splendidly ; 
And  the  third  belt  I  bequeath  it  to  the  maimed  and 

to  the  blind, 
That  they  may  sing  of  Marko  and  his  fame  be 

kept  in  mind." 
When  the  letter  was  written,  he  thrust  it  upon 

a  twig  of  the  fir, 
Whence  from  the  road  it  might  be  seen  by  any 

wayfarer. 
The  golden  writing-set  therewith  into  the  spring 

he  threw, 
And  his  good  mantle  of  the  green  from  off  his 

shoulders  drew. 
He  spread  the  mantle  beneath  the  fir,  and  the  sign 

of  the  cross  made  then ; 
He  pulled  the  sables  over  his  eyes,  and  lay  there, 

nor  rose  again. 
Dead  was  Marko  beside  the  spring.     For  a  week, 

from  day  to  day, 
Whoever  saw  Prince  Marko  that  traveled  along 

that  way, 
Deemed  that  the  good  Prince  Marko  asleep  was 

lying  there ; 

[182] 


And,   fearing  to   awake  him,  a  long  way   round 

would  they  fare. 
Where'er    is    found    good    fortune,    misfortune 

cometh  apace, 
And  wherever  evil  hap  is  found,  good  cometh  soon 

in  the  place. 
Abbot  Basil  of  Athos  from  the  church  Vilindar  the 

white, 
He   it  was   spied  Prince  Marko,  with   Isaias  his 

acolyte. 
He  held  his  hand :     "Lightly,  my  son,  see  that  thou 

wake  him  not. 
After  sleep  is  Marko  moody ;  he  may  kill  us  on  the 

spot." 
But  the  monk  saw  how  Marko  slept.     The  letter 

he  espied, 
And  he  read  throughout  the  letter  that  told  how 

Marko  died. 
The  monk  dismounted  from  the  steed,  and  raised 

up  Marko  the  bold. 
Marko  was  dead.     The  bitter  tears  down  Basil's 

cheek  they  rolled, 
And  he  sorrowed  sore  for  Marko.     The  belts  of 

golden  pelf 

He  ungirded  from  the  hero,  and  belted  on  himself. 
On   many   a  grave  he  pondered,  where  to  bury 

Marko  dead. 

He  chose ;  and  got  him  on  the  horse,  and  to  the  sea- 
shore sped. 
In  a  ship  he  laid  Prince  Marko.     And  to  Athos 

the  Holy  Height 

[183] 


He   bore  him,   to   Vilmdar,   the   stately    and   the 

white, 
And  there  the  funeral  liturgy  over  the  prince  he 

read 
And  likewise  sang  the  requiem  before  they  graved 

the  dead. 
There  the  old  man  buried  Marko.     No  mark  he 

placed  him  o'er, 
That  none  might  say  where  the  hero  lay,  and  mock 

at  him  therefore. 


[184] 


BALLADS  OF  SERVIA  UNDER  TURKISH 
RULE 


THE  MAIDEN  MARGITA  AND  RAYKO  THE 
VOYVODA  l 

NOT  yet  the  dawn  had  whitened,  nor  the  day  star 

shown  its  face; 
Men  thought  not  of  day — forth  Margita  the  maid 

walked  in  the  place, 
In  Sriyem  over  Slankamen ;  2  barefoot  the  damsel 

sprang 

Over  the  stone  so  early.     In  delicate  wise  she  sang, 
But  Rayko  in   the   song  she  cursed: 

"Rayko, 

may  God  thee  slay ! 
The  Turks  have  plagued  us  grievously  in  Sriyem, 

since  the  day 
When  thou  becamest  voyvoda.     When  Mirko  ruled 

the  land, 
We  heard  of  no  Turk,  nor  ever  saw  one  before  us 

stand ; 
But  now  they  plague  us  grievously.     Their  horses' 

feet  are  sore 

For  riding  night  and  morning  in  our  country  ever- 
more. 
The  very  fields  on  their  horsehoofs  are  lifted  and 

stolen  away, 
And  the  air  is  full  of  javelins  and  their  throwing- 

darts  to-day." 

1  In  the  translation   of  this  ballad   slightly  more  than   a 
third  of  the  original  has  been  omitted.    The  canceled  lines 
give  the  names   and   dwelling-places   of  numerous   Servian 
vofvodas  not  mentioned  elsewhere  in  this  volume. 

2  That  is,  "Salt-stone." 

[187] 


So  sang  the  girl  of  Sriyem,  and  deemed  that  none 

could  hear, 
But  Voyvoda  Rayko  saw  her,  and  the  curse  came 

to  his  ear ; 
And  he  called  the  maiden  Margita: 

"Sister,"  he 

saith,  "do  thou 
No  more  curse  Rayko  the  voyvoda.     What  more 

can  he  do  now? 
What   may   he   do   for  himself?     And   what   for 

Sriyem  in  this  hour? 
What  shall  he  do  in  Sriyem  against  the  Turkish 

power? 
While  Mirko  was  the  voyvoda,  in  our  cities  in  their 

turn 
Were  many  voyvodas.     Stay  thou ;  their  number 

thou  shalt  learn. 

At  Potserye  on  Sava  his  dwelling  Milosh  made. 
He  was  vizier  of  Lazar  in  many-towered  Belgrade. 

In  Krushevats,  the  white  city,  glorious  Lazar  had 
his  hall, 

With  his  fair  son  beside  him,  the  good  lad  Stevan 
the  Tall. 

Yug  Bogdan,  the  old  hero,  with  the  nine  sons  of 
his  might, 

Dwelt  in  another  city,  Prokuplye  the  white. 

At  the  white  town  of  Kurshumliya  was  Strahin, 
the  great  ban ; 

At  Toplitsa,  Milan  Toplitsa,  where  the  chill  wa- 
ters ran. 

[188] 


At  flat  Kosaynitsa,  Ivan  Kosanchich,  the  mighty 
man, 

•  •••••• 

In  Travnik,  the  white,  Vuk  Brankovich  was  Lazar's 

high  vizier; 
Duke  Stepan  l  in  Herzegovina  ruled  the  country 

without  fear. 

At  Skadar  on  the  Boyana,  Vukashin  was  the  king. 
With  his  brethren  Goyko  and  Uglyesha,  to  help 

in  governing. 
And  in  Prizrend,  where  the  plowland  reacheth  so 

fair  and  far, 
With  his  little  son,  Prince  Urosh,  was  Stepan  the 

Servian  tsar. 

•  •••••• 

Starma  Novak  2  held  the  rule  on  Stara,  the  moun- 
tain old; 

And  with  him  Radivoye,  his  brother,  called  the 
bold, 

And  Tatomir  and  Gruitsa  dwelt  with  them  in  the 
hold. 

And,  moreover,  Bey  Kostadin  dwelt  in  Kiimanovo 
white. 

And  Prince  Marko  in  white  Prilip,  in  the  mansion 

of  his  might. 

"Harken    thou,    sister   Margita,    our   voyvodas 
were  they; 

1  Ertseg  Stepan. 

2  The  introduction  into  this  ballad  of  a  hero  of  the  late 
sixteenth  century  is  of  course  an  anachronism. 

[189] 


All  of  them  were  among  us,  and  all  have  passed 

away. 
Some  died  in  their  beds,  sister,  and  some  in  battle 

were  slain ; 
To-day  doth  Rayko  alone  of  them  in  Sriyem  yet 

remain, 
Like   a  dry  tree  in  the  mountain  grove.     What 

shall  he  do  in  this  hour? 
What  shall  he  do  in  Sriyem  against  the  Turkish 

power?" 
From  his  belt  he  drew  a  dagger — through  his 

live  heart  it  sped; 
On  the  black  earth  Rayko  of  Sriyem,  the  voyvoda, 

lay  dead. 
And  Margita  ran  to  him;  with  a  wailing  cry  she 

said: 
"My  brothers,  Servian  voyvodas ;  you  have  been 

and  have  passed  away ! 
How  have  you  left  your  children  and  your  faithful 

wives  this  day? 
Are  they  not  now  a  footstool,  that  Turkish  feet 

may  rest? 

Are  not  your  monasteries  become  a  Turkish  jest?" 
She  snatched  the  dagger  of  Rayko,  through  her 

live  heart  smote  it  well, 
And  dead  the  wretched  maiden  by  the  dead  Rayko 

fell. 


[190] 


HOW  STARfNA  NOVAK  BECAME  A 
HAYDUK 

NOVAK  and  Rado  drank  the  wine  near  Bosna  the 

river  cold, 
With  Bogosav.     When  they  had  drunk  as  much 

as  they  could  hold, 
Prince    Bogosav    began     to    speak: 

"Starina 

Novak,"  said  he, 
"My  brother  sworn,  now  speak  the  truth,  so  may 

God  prosper  thee! 

Why   didst  thou  join   the  outlaws?     What  con- 
straint on  thee  was  laid 
To  go  to  the  wood  to  break  thy  neck,  and  to  ply 

a  wretched  trade? 
And  in  thine  age,  moreover,  when  thy  season  was 

past  and  sped?" 
Starina    Novak    spake   to   him: 

"Prince  Bo- 
gosav," he  said, 
"My  brother  sworn,  since  thou  askest  me,  I  will 

even  tell  thee  the  truth; 
But  it  was  through  a  hard  constraint  that  I  fled, 

in  very  sooth. 
Thou  mayst  remember,  when  Yerina  did  Sme"derevo 

rear, 
She  made  me  a  day  laborer.     I  labored  there  three 

year. 
Wood  and  stone  did  I  haul  for  her  with  my  oxen 

and  my  wain, 

[191] 


And  in  the  space  of  full  three  years  not  a  penny 

did  I  gain ; 
Not  even  bark  sandals  for  my  feet  could  I  win  my 

labor  by. 
And  that  I  should  have  pardoned  her.     When  the 

town  was  builded  high, 
She   would  build  towers   and   gild   the   doors   and 

windows  of  the  hold. 
Each  house  in  the  vilayet  she  taxed  three  measures 

of  gold, 
That  is  three  hundred  ducats.     Who  gave,  in  the 

place  might  live; 
But  I  was  poverty-stricken,  and  had  no  gold  to 

give. 
With  the  mattock,  wherewith  I  had  labored,  to  the 

outlaws  I  fled  amain. 
I  could  not  stay  where  Yerina,  the  accursed  one, 

did  reign, 
But  ran  to  the  cold  Drina,  and  to  rocky  Bosnia 

fled. 
When    I    came    near    Romaniya,    there    Turkish 

wooers  led 
A    Turkish    damsel    homeward.     In    peace    they 

passed  by  me. 
There   remained   the   Turkish   bridegroom;   on   a 

great  brown   steed  was  he. 
In  peace  that  Turkish  bridegroom  he  would  not 

let  me  pass, 
But  forth  he  drew  a  triple  whip  with  three  knobs 

of  yellow  brass. 
Thrice  he  smote  me  on  the  shoulders.     Thrice  I 

prayed  him  in  God's  name: 


"  'I  pray  thee,  Turkish  bridegroom,  mayst  thou 

have  courage  and  fame! 
Mayst  thou  have  a  happy  marriage,  but  pass  me 

by  in  peace! 
Thou  seest  how  poor  a  man  am  I.5 

"But   the 

bridegroom  would  not  cease ; 
But    rather    in    his    anger    began    to    smite    the 

more. 
Then  at  last  was  I  angry,  for  my  shoulders  were 

waxen  sore. 
With  the  mattock  on  my  shoulder,  the  bridegroom 

did  I  smite 
With  one  blow  from  the  brown  steed's  back,  though 

the  stroke  was  passing  light. 
And  then  I  leaped  upon  him,  and  smote  him  where 

he  lay, 
Twice  or  thrice,  till  his  spirit  from  the  body  fled 

away. 
I  reached  my  hand  in  his  pockets,  and  there  found 

purses  three; 

I  put  them  in  my  bosom,  and  girt  his  saber  on  me. 
I  left   the  mattock  at  his  head  that  the  Turks 

might  have  withal 
Something  to  bury  him  with ;  the  steed  I  mounted, 

brown   and   tall. 
To  the  wood  of  Romaniya  I  went;  the  wooers  saw 

me  there; 
But  wished  not  to  pursue  me,  or  haply  did  not 

dare. 
"It  is  forty  year.     The  forest  is  better  known 

to  me 

[193] 


Than  the  house  of  my  habitation  was  ever  wont 

to  be. 
The  roads  across  the  mountains  I  watch  them  and 

I  hold. 
From  the  youths  of  Sarayevo  I  take  their  silver 

and  gold, 
And  their  linen  and  velvet  for  me  and  mine;  and 

I  can  go  abroad 
And  stand  in  the  place  of  danger,  for  I  fear  none 

but  God." 


STARfNA  NOVAK  AND  THE  BOLD 
RADIVOYE 

STAHINA  NOVAK  drank  the  wine  on  Romaniya  the 

green  hill, 
And  Radivoye,  his  brother,  drank  with  him  with  a 

will; 

And  Gruitsa,  Starma's  son,  Radivoye  sat  before; 
With  Gruitsa  was  Tatomir  and  thirty  hayduks 

more. 
When  the  hayduks  in  good  fellowship  had  drunk 

the  liquor  cold, 
Then  spake  unto  his  brother  Radivoye,  called  the 

bold: 
"Hearest  thou,   brother  Novak?     I  will   leave 

thee  behind  me  now. 
Thou  canst  not  go  a-raiding;  too  grievous  old  art 

thou. 
Thou  dost  not  love  to  gallop  on  the  highway  any 

more, 

To  lie  in  wait  for  traders  that  come  from  the  sea- 
shore." 
So  spake  bold  Radivoye.     He  leaped  from  the 

ground  to  his  feet, 

He  seized  on  Breshka  by  the  waist ;  the  thirty  fol- 
lowed fleet. 
Rado  l  went  over  the  black  mount ;  'neath  a  green 

fir  Novak  lay, 
With  his  two  young  sons.     Brave  Rado  came  to 

a  crossing  in  the  way. 

i  An  abbreviation  for  Radivoye. 

[195] 


A   wretched  chance  befell  him,   for  Mehmed  the 
Moor  rode  there ; 

With  thirty  heroes  and  three  great  packs  of  treas- 
ure the  Turks  did  fare. 

When  Mehmed  saw  the  hayduks,  he  shouted  to  his 
men; 

The  champions  drew  their  sabers  and  rushed  on 
the  outlaws  then. 

They  had  no  chance  in  that  short  time  their  mus- 
kets to  let  drive. 

The  Turks  smote  thirty  heads  off,  and  Rado  seized 
alive ; 

They  bound  his  hands  behind  him;  they  led  him 
o'er  the  hill, 

With  insult,  but  bold  Rado  sang  to  them  with  a 

will: 

"God  slay  thee,  Mount  Romaniya!     Dost  thou 
breed  no  hawk  in  thee? 

Flew  a  flock  of  doves  with  a  raven  before  their 
company ; 

A  white  swan  led  they,  and  treasure  beneath  their 

wings  had  they." 

Child  Gruitsa  heard  Rado  as  he  sang  on  the 
highway. 

He  spake  to  Starina  Novak : 

"My  father,  harken 
thou, 

For  out  on  the  broad  highway  is  some  one  singing 
now, 

And  speaks  of  Mount  Romaniya  and  the  moun- 
tain-falcon gray. 

£196] 


It  is  like  our  Uncle  Rado.     He  has  gained  a  treas- 
ure this  day, 
Or  else  he  has  fallen  on  evil.     Let  us  go  to  give 

him  aid." 
He  seized  on  his  Damascus  gun  and  went  to  the 

ambuscade 
On    the    tsar's    highway,    and    after    him    young 

Tatomir  lightly  ran ; 
And  after  the  children  followed  Novak  the  ancient 

man. 
On  the  highway  in  the  ambuscade,  there  Novak 

took  his  ground; 

And  beside  him  his  two  children.     O'er  the  moun- 
tain came  a  sound, 
And  presently  thirty  champions  before  them  did 

appear, 
And  every  champion  carried  a  hayduk's  head  on 

his  spear. 
And    Mehmed    the    Moor   before    him    drove    the 

bound  Rado  still, 
And  likewise  three  loads  of  treasure  on  the  high 

road  over  the  hill, 
Till    into    the    ambuscade   he    marched   with    the 

squadron  of  his  might. 
Novak   shouted  to  his   children.     They  fired  the 

muskets  light; 
Mehmed  the  Moor  they  hit  in  the  belt.     He  did 

not  yell  one  yell — 
Dead  was  Mehmed  the  mighty  Moor,  ere  to  the 

ground  he  fell. 
The  Moor  fell  there  on  the  green  grass.     Starina 

Novak  sped, 

[197] 


And  swung  his  saber  in  the  air,  and  straight  cut  off 

his  head, 
And  then  he  rushed  to  Rado ;  from  his  hand  he  cut 

the  cord 
And  gave  him  the  saber  of  a  Moor.     Now  glory 

to  God  the  Lord! 
They  made  a  rush  upon  the  Turks,  they  cut  them 

into  bands, 
And    pursued    them    hither    and    yonder.     Who 

'scaped  from  Rado's  hands 
Young    Tatomir    awaited.     From    him    who    got 

away, 

Them  awaited  child  Gruitsa  in  eagerness  to  slay; 
And  them  who  'scaped  from  Gruitsa  old  Novak 

waited  for. 
They  slew  the  thirty  champions,  and  spoiled  the 

Turks  in  war; 

They  won  in  that  same  hour  three  packs  of  treas- 
ure fine. 
Then  sat  they  down  together  to  drink  the  yellow 

wine. 
Said  Novak :     "Tell  me  truly,  Rado,  my  brother 

bold, 
Which    is    better — thirty    hayduks,    or    Starma 

Novak  the  old?" 
To  him  said  Rado:     "My  brother,  the  thirty 

better  were  they — 
The  good  friends ;  but  thy  fortune  they  had  it  not 

this  day." 

It  is  ill  for  the  hero  who  hears  not  what  his  elders 
have  to  say. 

[198] 


THE  DEATH  OF  IVO  OF  SENYE  l 

Ivo's    mother    dreamed    that    darkness    was    risen 

Senye  around, 
That  the  clear  sky  was  broken  and  the  bright  moon 

fell  to  the  ground 
On  Ruzhitsa  church  in  Senye,  and  the  stars  fled 

far  and  wide, 
And  the  daystar  rose  up  bloody,  and  the  cuckoo 

to  her  cried — 
In  Senye's  midst  on  the  holy  roof  of  Ruzhitsa  did 

he  perch. 

The  woman  awoke  and  took  her  crutch  and  has- 
tened to  the  church, 
And  told  the  Archpriest  Nedelko  what  dream  was 

come  to  her, 
And  to  her  the  priest  made  clear  the  dream  as  an 

interpreter : 
"Hearest  thou,  mother!     Ill  hast  thou  dreamed 

and  evil  soon  will  be. 

In  that  darkness  rose  round  Senye,  'twill  be  deso- 
late for  thee. 
In  that  the  sky  was  broken  and  the  bright  moon 

fell  to  the  ground 
On  Ruzhitsa,  Ivo  will  perish ;  he  hath  reached  his 

term  and  bound. 
In  that  the  stars  fled  far  and  wide,  will  many  a 

widow  moan. 
In  that  bloody  rose  the  daystar,  thou  wilt  be  as  a 

cuckoo  alone. 

i  Zengg. 

[199] 


In  that  it  sang  on  the  Ruzhitsa,  the  Turks  will 

overthrow 
Ruzhitsa,  and,  though  old  I  be,  the  Turks  will  lay 

me  low." 
Hardly  had  he  done  speaking,  when  before  them 

Ivo  stood. 
The  great  black  steed  he  rode  upon  was  soaked 

with  the  dark  blood ; 
He  had  seventeen  wounds  ;  in  his  left  hand  his  cleft 

right  hand  he  bore. 
He  drove  the  black  steed  onward  the  great  white 

church  before. 
To  his  mother  he  spake:     "From  the  black  steed 

take  me  down,  mother  mine, 
And  wash  me  with  cold  water  and  purify  with 

wine." 
Swift  she   obeyed:  she  took  him  down  from  the 

steed  fierce  and  fine; 
She  washed  him  with   cold  water,   and  o'er  him 

poured  the  wine. 
His  mother  asked  him:     "What,  my  son,  in  Italy 

befell?" 
Ivo  spake: 

"Mother,    in    Italy    all    things    went 

swift  and  well; 
Enough   slaves   we  took,  mother,  and  enough  of 

treasure  bright; 
Safe  we  turned  home.     When  we  were  at  the  camp 

of  the  first  night, 

A  first  pursuit  overtook  us,  black  warriors  that  sped 
Upon  black  steeds ;  black  turbans  they  wore  about 

the  head. 

I  200  ] 


We  fired  one  volley,  mother,  we  slew  them  all  in 

fight; 
Of  us  none  perished,  mother.     At  the  camp  of  the 

second  night 
The  second  pursuit  o'ertook  us ;  the  furious  heroes 

sped 
Upon  white  steeds,  white  turbans  they  wore  about 

the  head. 
We  fired  one  volley,  mother;  we  slew  them  all  in 

fight. 
Of  us  none  perished,  mother.     At  the  camp  of  the 

third  night 
The  third  pursuit  o'ertook  us ;  black  cloaks,  long 

guns  did  they  bear. 
We  fired  a  single  volley,  and  began  to  fight  them 

there ; 
Of  them  none  perished,  mother;  of  us  all  fell  in 

the  fray, 

Excepting  thy  son  Ivo,  at  last  that  got  away. 
And  he  is  wounded ;  in  his  left  hand  his  right  hand 

hath  he  brought." 
So  Ivo  spake,  and  forthwith  with  his  dear  soul  he 

fought ; 
He  breathed,  and  released  from  prison  thereby  was 

the  spirit  light. 
He  died,  and  his  ancient  mother — O  evil  was  her 

plight ! 
May  God  give  him  a  dwelling  place  in  pleasant 

paradise, 

And  health  to  us,  my  brethren,  and  merriment  like- 
wise ! 

[201] 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  STOYAN  YANKOVICH 

WHILE  still  men  dreamed  not  of  the  dawn,  the  gates 

were  opened  wide 
In  tldbina,  and  from  the  town  a  squadron  forth 

did  ride. 
Four  and  thirty  friends  are  there;  before  them  is 

Mustay  Bey, 
The  lord  of  Lika ;  1  to  Kunor  wood  he  went  to 

hunt  that  day. 
For  half  a  week  he  hunted,  but  nothing  came  to 

hand; 
To  Udbina  and  Lika  he  went  homeward  through 

the  land; 
When  down  through  the  fir  forest  to  a  spring  he 

turned  aside, 
To  drink  and  rest.     He  cast  his  eye  'neath  a  green 

fir  that  tide; 
But  when  Mustay  Bey  of  Lika  came,  the  twigs  of 

the  fir  tree  shone. 

A  drunken  warrior  lay  asleep  in  the  fir  wood  alone ; 
All  in  the  pure  gold  was  he  clad  and  in  the  silver 

fine; 
On  his  head  he  wore  a  splendid  cap  with  silver 

feathers  nine, 

And  set  beside  the  feathers  a  great  wing  silver- 
wrought  ; 

i  Lika  is  a  district  in  Croatia.  Mustay  Bey  is  the  favorite 
hero  of  the  Mohammedan  Serbs  of  Bosnia,  in  whose  popular 
poetry  he  occupies  a  place  like  that  of  Prince  Marko  in  the 
ballads  of  their  Orthodox  kinsmen.  See  Murko,  "Die 
Volksepik  der  bosnischen  Mohammedaner,"  in  Zeitschrift 
des  Vereins  fur  Volkskunde,  Berlin,  1909,  pp.  13-30. 

[202] 


For  a  thousand  ducats  and  no  less  the  silver  wing 

was  bought. 
On  his  shoulders  the  hero  weareth  a  mantle  great 

and  green, 
And  thirty  knobs  of  yellow  gold  thereon  are  to  be 

seen, 
Each  one  of  a  golden  measure;  and  one  'neath  the 

neck  is  worn, 
Three  measure  weight  with  a  screw  that  opes,  and 

brandy  that  holds  in  the  morn. 
On  the   mantle   are   three   golden   plates,   of   the 

weight  of  four  good  pound; 
Two  were  of  twisted  goldwork,  and  one  did  the 

smelters  found. 
His  breeches  had  golden  buckles ;  and  yellow,  rich 

to  see, 
Were  his  legs  as  any  falcon's  from  the  ankle  to  the 

knee. 
From  the  buckles  hung  fine  golden   chains,  and 

from  them  trinkets  fair, 
Such  as   the  slender  maidens  aye  at  their  sweet 

throats  wear. 
At  his  splendid  belt  were  pistols  of  the  Damascus 

gold, 
Silver-inlaid  was  the  great  blade,  with  three  gold 

hilts  to  hold ; 
In  them  are  set  three  precious  stones ;  it  is  worth 

three  towns  of  the  tsar. 
On  his  breast  was  a  musket,  and  golden  the  thirty 

hoops  of  it  are, 

And  each  hoop  worth  ten  ducats,  and  thirty,  one 
by  the  sight; 

[203] 


There  was  more  of  gold  on  the  musket  than  of 

steel  hammered  and  bright. 
When  the  hero  rose  upward  from  the  grass,  the 

fir  twigs  crackled  then, 
But  the  Bey  of  Lika  pinned  him  down  with  his 

four  and  thirty  men. 
When  the  hero  looked  up  from  the  grass  with  a 

black  and  lowering  eye, 
He  saw  that  the  Turks  had  pinned  him  down,  and 

his  weapons  were  not  by. 
One  of  his  foes  with  his  great  arms  he  gripped  as 

with  a  girth; 
The  living  heart  was  burst  in  the  Turk  as   he 

hurled  him  to  the  earth; 
And  seven  others,  moreover,  he  slaughtered  of  the 

band, 
Before  the  Turks  could  master  the  strength  of  the 

white  hand. 
But  they  captured  him,  and  forthwith  the  white 

hand  did  they  bind, 
And  drove  him  to  white  Udbina  with  his  weapons 

tied  behind, 
That  great  and  small  might  marvel  how  Mustay, 

of  Lika  the  Bey, 
Such  a  warrior  with  his  weapons  had  taken  in  the 

fray. 
And  Mustay  spake  to  him  as  through  the  open 

field  they  came: 

"God's   love!     Whence   comest  thou,   lord   un- 
known?    What  do  men  call  thy  name? 
Whither  wast  thou  going,  and  whither  have  thy 

comrades  gone  away?" 
[  204  ] 


Saith  he : 

"What  sayst  thou,  Mustay,  of  Lika 

that  art  Bey? 
Hast  thou  heard  of  the  Latin  seacoast,  and  Ko- 

tari l  set  thereon, 
And  of  Stoyan,  the  son  of  Yanko?     I  am  Stoyan, 

Yanko's  son, 
And  I  had  no  other  comrade  than  God  and  myself 

alone ; 
And  I  had  taken  counsel  to  descend  beneath  thy 

tower, 
And  the  slender  maiden,  Haykuna,  to  lure  her  in 

that  hour, 

And  take  her  to  Kotari — but  it  was  not  God's  de- 
cree; 

The  thrice  accursed  liquor  it  overmastered  me!" 
Said  Mustay,  the  Bey  of  Lika:     "Stoyan,  well 

mayst  thou  speed ! 
Thou  hast  fallen  into  a  hero's  hands  who  will  find 

thee  a  wife  indeed!" 
Amid  their  speech  to  Udbina  at  last  they  made 

their  way, 
Beneath  the  tower  of  Mustay,  of  Lika  that  was 

Bey; 
And  great  and   small  came  out  to  gaze   on  the 

squadron  in  that  hour, 
And  Haykuna,  Mustay's  sister  dear,  looked  down 

from  the  slender  tower. 
At  the  tambour  frame  of  coral  a  needle  of  glass 

doth  she  hold, 
1  Not  Cattaro,  but  a  town  in  northern  Dalmatia. 

[205] 


And  she  weaveth  through  the  linen  white  a  gallant 

thread  of  gold. 
And  when  she  saw  the  squadron  forth  from  the 

forest  come, 
That  led  a  fettered  hero  with  his  shining  weapons 

home, 
The  tambour  frame  before  her  with  her  hand  she 

thrust  away — 
Two  of  its  legs  were  shattered — and  to  herself  did 

she  say: 
"Dear  God,   a  mighty  marvel,   a  hero  in   evil 

stead! 
By  what  guile  did  they  bind  him,  for  he  is  not 

wounded  nor  dead?" 

But  when  she  reckoned  the  squadron,  were  lack- 
ing seven  men. 
When  the  squadron  came  'neath  the  white  tower, 

she  took  his  weapons  then, 
And  bore  away  his   weapons  in  the  treasury  to 

keep. 
Stoyan  they  cast  in  a  prison  that  was  fifty  fathom 

deep; 
Therein  to  the  knees  of  the  hero  the  water  doth 

arise, 
And  the  bones  of  captive  Christians  to  his  shoulder 

reach  likewise. 
The  bey  went  unto  the  new  inn,  with  his  men  the 

wine  to  drain, 

And  to  boast  to  the  Turks  of  tldbina  what  a  cap- 
tive he  had  ta'en. 
The  fair  maid  went  to  the  dungeon  door  with  a 

bucket  of  wine  that  tide; 
[206] 


She  lowered  it  with  a  strong  cord,  and  unto  the 

hero   cried : 
"O  hero,  God  protect  thee,  nor  slay  thee  here 

in  shame! 
Whence  art  thou?  what  is  thy  country?  what  dost 

thou  call  thy  name? 
How  did  the  Turks  deceive  thee,  when  thine  arms 

behind  they  tied?" 
Stoyan  drank  of  the  yellow  wine,  and  to  the 

damsel  cried: 
"Who  calls  from  the  white  dungeon?     My  throat 

hath  drunken  full. 
With  the  windlass  half  way  up  the  hold  the  hero 

shalt  thou  pull; 
From  thence  will  I  tell  the  story." 

The  maiden 
harkened  thereto; 
The  rope  with  hooks  of  steel  let  down,  and  half 

way  up  she  drew 
Stoyan  the  son  of  Yanko.     He  questioned  her  and 

said: 

"Who  calls  from  the  white  dungeon?"     Then  ap- 
peared the  Turkish  maid: 

"Even  I,  unknown  hero,  the  sister  of  Mustay  Bey." 
Stoyan  answered: 

"O    Haykuna.    may    God    in 
heaven  thee  slay ! 

I  am  Stoyan  the  son  of  Yanko,  and  in  prison  be- 
cause of  thee. 
The  Turks  beguiled  me  when  I  was   drunk,  and 

bound  have  they  taken  me." 
The  Turkish  maid  spake  to  him : 
[207] 


"O  Stoyan,  of 

Yanko  born, 
Fain  would  the  Turks  destroy  thee.     They  will 

question  thee  tomorn 
Whether  to  be  a  Moslem  thy  faith  thou  wilt  put 

aside. 
Become   a   Moslem,    Stoyan;   and   I   will   be   thy 

bride. 
My  brother,  the  Bey  of  Lika,  two  treasure  towers 

hath  he, 
One  his,  one  mine ;  if  he  dieth  first,  mine  and  thine 

shall  they  be." 
Spake  Stoyan: 

"Thou   damsel,   Haykuna,   no 

more  like  a  mad  girl  rave! 

Though  Udbina  and  Lika  into  my  hand  they  gave, 
By  God  I  would  not  turn  Moslem !     In  Kotari  my 

treasure  lay, 
More  than  the  Turks',  and  a  hero  better  am  I  than 

they. 
If  God  it  grant,  fair  damsel,  before  the  noon  hour 

ring, 

The  captains  of  Kotari  over  Udbina  shall  spring, 
Over   and   roundabout   it,    and   hence   shall   they 

rescue  me." 
Said  the  maid: 

"Speak  not  like  a  madman ;  ere 

that  they  will  slaughter  thee. 
But  to  take  me  to  be  thy  wedded  wife,  firm  will  thy 

faith  remain, 
If  I  free  thee  out  of  the  dungeon?" 

[208] 


And  Stoyan 

answered  again: 
"Firm  is  my  faith,  fair  damsel,  I  will  take  thee 

before  all; 

Verily  on  mine  honor  I  will  not  deceive  thee  at  all." 
When  the  damsel  heard,  in  the  prison  she  low- 
ered him  in  that  hour, 
And  she  wended  her  own  way  forthwith  unto  the 

slender  tower. 
A  little  time  went  after  this;  from  the  inn  came 

forth  the  bey, 
And  the  maiden  staggered  before  him,  as  a  fit  were 

on  her  that  day. 
Mustay  the  Bey  asked  of  her :     "What  aileth  thee, 

sister  dear?" 
She  said: 

"A  pain  of  the  head  and  the  heart  is 

fallen  upon  me  here ; 
A  chill  is  come  upon  me ;  'twere  better,  brother,  to 

die. 
But  seat  thee  on  the  soft  cushions,  that  I  on  thy 

breast  may  lie, 

And  there  at  last  surrender  my  spirit  in  its  sin." 
Mustay  the  Bey  was  sorry,  for  he  had  no  other 

kin, 
And  over  his  white  features  the  bitter  tears  he 

shed. 
He  sat  upon  the  cushions,  on  his  bosom  she  drooped 

her  head ; 
One  hand  she  laid  on  his  bosom,  with  the  other  did 

she  seize 

[209] 


In  her  dear  brother's  pocket  the  stable  and  prison 

keys, 
And  the  key  of  the  treasure  likewise.     Then  tossed 

she  where  she  lay 
On  the  cushion,  and  to  his  sister  made  question 

Mustay  the  Bey : 
"Has  not  God  granted  thee,  sister,  that  the  pain 

should  pass  away?" 
"Brother,  he  has,  may  God  be  thanked!"     And  he 

went  to  the  roof  outside, 
To  counsel  with  them  of  Udbina  how  Stoyan  should 

die  that  tide. 
But  the  maiden  leaped  to  her  feet,  and  wide  the 

treasury  door  she  threw; 

And  saddlebags  of  ducats  and  Stoyan's  armor,  too, 
She  gathered  in  that  hour  from  the  dungeon  white 

and  cold. 
She  let  out  Stoyan,  and  led  him  from  the  cellars  of 

the  hold; 
And  released  the  steeds  from  the  stables :  the  good 

white  steed  of  the  bey, 

That  ever  more  he  rode  upon  in  the  heroic  fray, 
And  the  black  steed  of  his  lady;  swifter  is  none 

in  the  land. 
The  damsel  mounted  the  white,  but  the  black  is 

under  Stoyan's  hand, 
And  forthwith  over  the  broad  field  swiftly  they  got 

them  gone 
Over  Ogoryelitsa,  and  from  Kunor  the  wood,  and 

on 
From  Kunor  to  Kotari.     Then  the  son  of  Yanko 

said: 

[210] 


"Grievously  am  I  weary,  O  Haykuna  the  maid! 
Dismount  from  the  white  charger;  of  sleep  I  have 

sore  need." 
But  she  said : 

"By  thy  courage,  Stoyan !    Drive 

forward  the  black  steed 

On  unto  flat  Kotari ;  sleep  cometh  with  little  aid. 
But  for  some  squadron  of  the  Turks  yet  am  I  sore 

afraid !" 
But  he  harkened  not.     From  the  horses  they 

descended  on  the  grass; 
With  his  head  on  her  bosom  Stoyan  slept ;  like  a 

foolish  lamb  he  was. 
But  the  maiden  cannot  slumber.     Before  the  white 

day's  hour 
The  bey's  wife  rose  to  visit  the  girl  in  the  slender 

tower. 

Very  sick  was  the  damsel,  when  darkness  fell  yes- 
treen, 
But  now  in  the  slender  tower  no  more  the  girl  is 

seen; 
And  the  money  from  the  treasury  is  gathered  up 

and  gone, 
And    no    longer    in    the    dungeon    lieth    Stoyan, 

Yanko's  son. 
Forthwith  came  back  the  woman  into  the  slender 

tower ; 
She  fired  the  great  alarum  gun  suddenly  in  that 

hour. 
On  the  green  roof  the  bey  heard  it ;  what  was  come 

to  pass  he  knew, 

[211] 


And  swiftly  with  his  fingers  he  searched  his  pockets 

through, 
And  found  that  from  his  pockets  the  keys  were 

stolen  away. 
"My  brothers,  men  of  Udbina !"  then  shouted 

Mustay  Bey, 
"Stoyan,  the  son  of  Yanko,  with  the  maid  is  fled 

abroad. 
Up  on  your  feet,  my  brethren,  as  ye  believe  in 

God!" 
Strange  is  the  Turkish  use.     Their  steeds  were 

ready  saddled  there; 
They  seized  their  steeds  and  over  the  wide  field 

did  they  fare. 
They  reached  the  Kunor  wood,  and  through  the 

forest  did  they  pass 
Unto  Kotari.     Haykuna  looked  up  from  the  green 

grass ; 
Often   she   looked   to   Kunor.     A    crest   rose   far 

away, 
The  dust  of  horses  and  heroes,  and  she  knew  her 

brother,  the  bey, 
And  the  thirty  men  of  Udbina.     Stoyan  she  dares 

not  wake, 
But  above  the  face  of  Stoyan  she  weepeth  for  his 

sake. 
When  Stoyan  started  from  slumber,  he  bespake 

her  in  this  wise: 
"What  ails  thee,  Turkish  damsel,  that  the  tears 

run  from  thine  eyes? 
Dost   thou   weep   for  thy   brother,   Mustay   Bey, 

and  his  great  treasury? 
[212] 


Or  haply  is  it  that  Stoyan  no  longer  pleases  thee  ?" 
Quoth  the  maiden: 

"Sorrow-stricken  may   thy 

mother  be  this  tide ! 
I  weep  not  for  my  brother  nor  the  treasure  of  his 

pride. 
We  have  brought  the  treasure  with  us,  in  the  midst 

of  my  heart  art  thou; 
But  the  bey  with  the  thirty  of  Udbina  is  hard  upon 

us   now. 
Ride  the  black  to  Kotari ;  our  lives  are  thrown 

away !" 
When  Stoyan  heard  the  damsel,  unto  her  did  he 

say: 
"By  God,  I  will  not,  maiden  !     They  have  stirred 

my  anger  up; 
They  pinned  me  down  on  the  grass  when  I  had 

drunken  of  the  cup. 
Now  will  I  make  exchange  of  gifts  with  thy  brother, 

dear  indeed! 
Do  thou  ride  the  black  charger,  and  give  me  the 

white  steed; 
The  white  is  a  little  better,  when  I  go  thy  brother 

to  meet." 
Stoyan  leapt  on  the  good  white  steed ;  the  black 

she  mounted  fleet, 
And  galloped  to  white  Kotari ;  but  Stoyan  against 

the  bey. 
And  it  were  worth  the  trouble,  to  sit  and  watch 

the  fray, 
And  behold  a  mighty  marvel,  how  thirty  smote  at 

one: 


The  palace  that  sent  thirty  forth  waits  the  return 

of  none. 
Stoyan  smote  off  the  thirty  heads,  and  he  seized 

on  Mustay  Bey; 
Hands  bound  behind,  he  drove  him  to  where  the 

damsel  lay. 
He   spake   to  the   damsel  as  he  drew  the  silver- 

hilted  blade: 
"Thus,  Haykuna,  'twixt  brothers  exchange  of  gifts 

is  made!" 
He  swung  the  silver-hilted  sword,  but  she  threw 

her  arms  on  high: 
"By  thy  courage,  leave  a  sister  a  brother  for 

swearing  by ! 
For  thee  also  a  sister  might  weep,  and  be  full  of 

woe. 
Turn  him  now  back  to  Udbina,  and  give  him  leave 

to  go." 
Stoyan  turned  back  the  saber;  tighter  he  bound 

the  bey, 
And  set  his  face  toward  Udbina,  and  unto  him  did 

say: 
"When  thou  comest  unto  Udbina,  to  drink  with 

the  men  thereby, 
Tell  thou  the  whole  truth  to  them,  nor  ever  speak 

a  He; 
And  here  will  I  grant  thy  life  to  thee  in  the  fierce 

single  fray." 
Forth  in  his  bonds  to  Udbina  alone  went  back 

the  bey; 


But   to   flat  Kotari   Stoyan   the  Turkish  damsel 

takes, 
And  his   christened  wife  he  kisses  whensoever  he 

awakes. 


[215] 


THE  CAPTIVITY  OF  STOYAN  YANKOVICH 

WHEN  the  Turks  took  Kotari,  great  havoc  did 

they  make 
With  the  house  of  Yankovich.     Iliya  Smflyanich 

did  they   take 
And  likewise  Stoyan  Yankovich ;  bereft  was  Iliya's 

bride 
Of  fifteen  days ;  ungently  from  his  wife's  youthful 

side 
Was  Stoyan  taken  also,  ere  a  week  they  had  been 

wed. 
The  Turks  to  Stamboul  city  captive  the  husbands 

led. 
To  the  tsar  whom  all  men  honor,  with  the  prisoners 

of  their  spears 
Came  the  Turks ;  and  the  two  were  holden  for  the 

space  of  nine  long  years 
And  seven  months.     And  Moslems  the  tsar  hath 

made  them  there, 
And  likewise  built  them  houses  beside  his  palace 

fair. 

Spake  Iliya  Smflyanich:     "Stoyan,  dear  broth- 
er," did  he  say, 

"To-morrow  will  be  Friday,  the  Turkish  holiday ; 
The  tsaritsa  walks  with  the  Turkish  dames   and 

the  tsar  with  the  Turks  at  heel. 
Do  thou  steal  the  key  of  the  treasury,   and  the 

stable  key  will  I  steal; 
Let  us  gather  the  guardless  treasure  and  take  two 

steeds  amain, 
And  run  to  level  Kotari  and  see  our  wives  again, 

[216] 


That   never  enemy   caressed  nor   foeman   carried 

away." 
They  harkened  each  other.     On  the  morn  of  the 

Turkish  holiday 
The  tsaritsa  walked  with  the  Turkish  dames  and 

the  tsar  with  the  Turks  at  heel. 
One  stole  the  treasury  key,  and  one  did  the  key 

of  the  stable  steal; 
They  took  much  treasure  and  two  good   steeds, 

and  to  flat  Kotari  fled. 
When  they  were  near  Kotari,  Stoyan  Yankovich 

said: 
"O  Iliya,  my  dear  brother,  unto  the  white  house 

go; 

And  I  will  unto  the  vineyard  that  mine  own  hand 

did  sow, 
That  I  may  look  on  the  vineyard,  to  see  who  binds 

the  vine 
And  prunes  it — in  whose  possession  the  place  has 

gone  from  mine." 
To  the  white  house  went  fliya,  to  the  vineyard 

Stoyan  came ; 
In  the  vineyard  he  found  his  mother,  the  weary  and 

ancient  dame. 
And  standing  in  the  vineyard  she  cut  the  strands 

of  her  hair, 
And  with  them  to  the   stanchions  she  bound  the 

grapevines  there, 
And  with  tears  she  watered  the  vine  sprouts  and 

the  tendrils  where  they  twined, 
And  ever  her  own  son  Stoyan  was  present  in  her 

mind: 

£217] 


"Stoyan,   my   golden   apple,    is    forgot   of   his 

mother  old ; 

But  I  will  remember  Yela  his  wife,  fair  as  the  un- 
worn gold!" 
Stoyan  in  God's  name  greeted  her :     "Old  dame, 

whom  God  defend ! — 
Hast  thou  none  younger  than  thyself  for  thee  the 

vines  to  tend? 
Thou  totterest  wretched  and  feeble."     But  bravely 

she  replied: 
"Live   well,   thou   unknown   champion,   and   all 

good  thee  betide ! 
I  have  none  younger  save  Stoyan,  sole  son  of  my 

desire. 
The  Turks  took  him  with  fliya,  the  nephew  of  his 

sire; 

And  in  that  bitter  hour  bereft  was  fliya's  bride 
Of  fifteen  days ;  ungently  from  his  wife's  youthful 

side 
Was  Stoyan  taken  also,  ere  a  week  they  had  been 

wed. 
My   daughter   of  Adam  waited   until  nine  years 

were  sped, 

And  seven  months  of  the  tenth  year;  she  weds  an- 
other to-day. 
And  I — I  could  not  endure  it;  to  the  vineyard  I 

ran  away  1" 
When  Stoyan  understood  it,  he  went  to  the  white 

house, 
And  well  the  wooers  welcomed  him  with  revel  and 

carouse. 

[218] 


He  went  from  the  steed  to  table,  his  thirst  with 

wine  to  slake; 
When  he  had  drunk  his  fill  of  it,  softly  to  them 

he  spake: 
"My    brothers,    gay-clad    wooers,    to    sing    is    it 

granted  me?" 
Said    the   wooers:     "It   is,   thou   hero  unknown; 

wherefore  should  it  not  be?" 
Then  Stoyan  sang  unto  them  in  a  high  voice  and  a 

clear: 
"A  swallow  plaited  her  fair  nest ;  she  plaited  her 

nest  nine  year; 
To-morrow  will  she  unplait  it.     But  there  flew  to 

her  from  afar 
A  mighty  falcon  green  and  gray,  from  the  city  of 

the  tsar; 
And  the  mighty  falcon  green  and  gray  lets  her  not 

unplait  the  nest." 

In  all  this  to  the  wooers  was  nothing  manifest, 
But  the  inward  of  the  matter  the  wife  of  Stoyan 

spied. 
Thereupon  she  departed  from  the  bringer  of  the 

bride; 
She  went  to  the  lookout  place  and  spoke  to  Sto- 

yan's  sister  dear: 
"Sister-in-law,  my  sister,  thy  brother  my  lord  is 

here !" 
When  the  sister  of  Stoyan  heard  it,  she  ran  from 

the  lookout  place ; 
Thrice  she  looked  round  the  table,  till  she  saw  her 

brother's  face. 

[219] 


When  she  saw  the  face  of  her  brother,  wide  then 

their  arms  they  spread; 
They  kissed  each  other  on  the  face,  and  the  sweet 

tears  they  shed; 
One  washes  the  cheeks  of  the  other  with  the  tears 

of  their  desire. 
But  the  gay-clad  wooers  said :     "Stoyan,  what  get 

we  for  our  hire? 
For  we  spent  a  deal  of  money  ere  we  won  thy 

wife  to  wed." 
"Stand  aside,  gay-clad  wooers,"  Stoyan  Yanko- 

vich  said, 
"Until  I  have  gazed  on  my  sister!     We  will  look 

to  your  money  then ; 

Easily  shall  we  pay  it,  if  we  in  truth  be  men." 
When  he  had  gazed  on  her,  gifts  he  gave  unto 

the  wooers  there ; 

A  kerchief  to  one,  to  another  a  shirt  of  linen  fair ; 
To  the  bridegroom  he   gave  his  sister:  and  the 

wooers  went  their  way. 
Wailing  came  home  the  mother  at  the  ending  of 

the  day, 

Wailing  even  as  a  cuckoo  the  hawthorn  leaves  be- 
hind, 

And  ever  her  son  Stoyan  was  present  in  her  mind: 
"Stoyan,   my    golden    apple,   is    forgot   of   his 

mother  old; 
But   I  will  remember  Yela  his  wife,  fair  as  the 

unworn  gold ! 
Who  will  wait  for  the  ancient  mother?     Who  will 

come  forth  for  me, 

[220] 


And    say   to   the   weary   woman,   'Hath   thy   toil 

wearied  thee?' ' 
When  the  wife  of  Stoyan  heard  it,  before  the 

house  she  sped; 
She  took  her  mother  in  her  sweet  arms,  and  to  the 

dame  she  said: 
"Wail  not,  O  ancient  mother!     On  thee  has  the 

warm  sun  shone, 
For  returned  unto  thy  bosom  is  Stoyan,  thy  only 

son." 
She  looked  on  her  son  Stoyan,  and  dead  on  the 

earth  she  fell. 

And  Stoyan  buried  his  mother  most  royally  and 
well. 


[221] 


A  MONTENEGRIN  BALLAD 


THE  WAR  OF  THE  MONTENEGRINS 
WITH  MAHMUD  PASHA  * 

VIZIER  MAHMUD  on  Boyana  in  Scutari  the  white 
Hath  gathered  his  viziers  and  the  captains  of  his 

might, 
Picked   Turkish   chiefs.     When   they   were   come, 

he  spake  unto  them  then : 
"Here  is  a  chance  for  us  at  last,  my   gallant 

fighting  men, 

i  "I  am  confident  that  both  ballads  [of  which  the  present 
is  onej  on  the  war  of  the  Montenegrins  with  Mahmud  Pasha 
were  composed  by  the  Prince-Bishop  of  Montenegro,  Petar  1 
(now  canonized  as  St.  Petar),  and  that  later  they  became 
current  among  the  people,  and,  passing  from  mouth  to 
mouth,  were  assimilated  to  the  folk  ballads."  (Note  by 
Karajich.) 

Mr.  William  Miller  gives  the  following  account  of  the 
events  treated  in  this  ballad: 

"The  people  of  Trebinje  in  the  Herzegovina,  long  noted 
for  their  independence  and  intolerance  of  Turkish  rule,  had 
been  driven  from  their  homes  by  the  ravages  of  the  Turks, 
and  sought  shelter  among  the  Berda  [Brida].  The  four 
nahie  of  that  mountainous  district,  which  had  been  virtually 
united  to  Montenegro  under  Danilo  I,  were  now  formally 
combined  with  it  into  one  state.  .  .  .  This  important  acces- 
sion of  territory  did  not  fail  to  arouse  the  jealousy  of  the 
Turks.  Kara  Mahmoud  resolved  to  prevent  the  union,  and 
entered  Montenegro  at  the  point  where  the  river  Zeta  sepa- 
rates it  from  the  Berda.  But  his  efforts  were  in  vain. 
After  a  sanguinary  engagement  near  the  fortress  of  Spuzh, 
the  pasha  retired  wounded  from  the  field,  and  a  subsequent 
expedition  cost  him  his  life.  The  vladika  [prince-bishop], 
posting  one  half  of  his  forces  in  one  of  those  mountainous 
defiles  which  are  so  common  in  his  country,  and  leaving 
a  number  of  red  Montenegrin  caps  upon  the  rocks  to  delude 
the  Turks  into  the  idea  that  his  whole  army  was  in  front, 
surprised  them  with  the  other  half  in  the  rear.  Taken  un- 
awares between  the  two  fires,  the  invaders  fell  by  hundreds; 

[225] 


To  win  the  great  Black  Mountain  and  the  flat 
coast  of  the  sea 

That  we  have  long  desired.  Some  friends  of  mine 
there  be, 

Black  Mountaineers  that  I  will  bribe;  their  coun- 
try they  will  sell, 

And  I  will  do  thereafter  whatever  seemeth  well. 

But  the  men  of  Brida  have  closed  the  roads,  and 
there  my  wound  is  found, 

And  I  cannot  gather  an  army  all  Bosnia  around, 

Or  in  Herzegovina  either  or  the  Albanian  bound. 

Let  us  stir  up  Albania,  that  our  fiery  winds  may 
fall 

On  the  Piperi  and  also  on  the  Children  of  White 
Paul.1 

Let  us  burn  everything  with  fire  and  capture  great 
and  small, 

Till  we  come  to  Nikshich,  brethren ;  there  our  pa- 
vilion white 

Kara  Mahmoud  was  slain,  and  when  Sir  Gardner  Wilkin- 
son visited  Cetinje  [Tsetinye],  fifty  years  later,  he  found 
the  pasha's  skull  still  stuck,  as  a  grim  trophy  of  victory,  on 
the  battlements  of  the  famous  'Turks'  Tower.'  The  effects 
of  the  Turkish  defeat  were  lasting;  the  union  of  the  Monte- 
negro and  the  Berda  was  secure;  the  hereditary  foes  of  the 
Black  Mountain  ceased  for  many  years  from  troubling.  .  .  . 
The  sultan  no  longer  demanded  tribute  from  a  nation  which 
knew  so  well  how  to  defend  itself.  By  a  curious  coinci- 
dence, the  victory  took  place  exactly  one  hundred  years  after 
the  selection  of  Danilo  I  as  prince-bishop  [i.  e.,  in  1796]." 
The  Balkans,  New  York,  1896,  pp.  410,  411. 

1  The  Bycl6pavlichi  rebel  against  English  meter  as  stoutly 
as  they  once  resisted  Turkish  oppression;  hence  their  name 
is  translated  in  the  text  instead  of  transcribed. 

[  226  ] 


We  will  pitch,  and  we  will  gather  the  army  of  our 
might 

From  the  land  of  Herzegovina  and  from  the  coun- 
try round, 

And  from  the  land  of  Bosnia  and  the  Albanian 
bound. 

We  will  divide  the  host  in  three,  and  one  of  those 
three  powers 

We  will  send  unto  white  Novi  that  in  ancient  time 
was  ours ; 

When  we  come  to  Ragusa  we  will  choose  a  viceroy 
of  the  tsar, 

Ibrahim  my  brother  for  pasha,  that  the  wonder  be 
heard  afar. 

The  second  host  shall  travel  by  the  fords  along 
the  sea, 

With  food  and  shell  and  powder  and  the  artillery, 

That  they  may  fight,  nor  to  parley  of  any  peace 
delay. 

There  is  not  left  a  single  youth  about  Cattaro  Bay ; 

They  are  gone  to  Italy,  Venice  from  the  French- 
men to  defend. 

And  over  the  Black  Mountain  must  the  third  army 
wend, 

To  win  the  great  Black  Mountain  and  the  flat  coast 
of  the  sea, 

That  by  the  coast  we  may  water  our  horses  easily, 

Till  we  are  come  to  Cattaro.  When  at  the  town 
we  are, 

There,  friends,  my  nephew  Mehmed  shall  be  vice- 
roy of  the  tsar; 

[227] 


A  lord   and  pasha  shall   he  be   that  the  Latins 

thereof  may  know. 
It  is  my  very  strong  desire  that  thus  should  the 

matter  go." 
So  Mahmud  spake,  and  nimbly  to  his  feet  sprang 

the  vizier; 
Quickly  he  seized  a  writing-set  and  wrote  a  letter 

clear : 
To  Petar  the  Bishop  *  in  Tsetinye  the  letter  doth 

he  send: 
"Prince-Bishop  of  Montenegro,  if  thou  still  wilt 

be  my  friend, 

The  champions  of  Brida  in  no  way  shalt  thou  re- 
lieve, 

Nor  in  little  Montenegro  their  families  receive ; 
For  now  in  my  displeasure  the  fiery  winds  shall  fall 
On  the  Piperi  and  also  on  the  Children  of  White 

Paul. 
I  shall  burn  everything  with  fire  and  capture  great 

and  small, 

And  either  I  shall  perish  or  drive  out  utterly 
The  men   of  Brida  to  Ostrog  the  mount.     And 

harken  yet  to  me  ! 
Prince-Bishop  of  Montenegro,  if  thou  shalt  them 

relieve ; 
If  in  Montenegro  their  families  haply  thou  shalt 

receive, 

Into  my  own  Albania  will  I  betake  me  then, 
So  that  thou  shalt  not  be  able  to  give  aid  unto  the 

men." 

i  Petar  I,  who  ruled  1782-1830,  and  to  whom  Karajich 
attributes  the  composition  of  this  ballad. 
[228  ] 


The  Turk  said  not,  "If  God  permit" ;  he  trusted 

in  his  might ; 
God  only  giveth  strength,  and  he  will  aid  no  Turk 

in  fight. 
When  the  letter  reached  the  bishop,  he  looked 

thereon   and  read; 
And  when  he  knew  its  import,  the  bitter  tears  he 

shed. 
The  chiefs  of  the  Black  Mountain,  the  chosen  of 

the  land, 
The  heroes  of  Tsetinye  by  chance  were  ready  to 

his  hand. 
Said  the  bishop: 

"Ye    Black    Mountain    men, 

hath  come  a  letter  here, 
From   Mahmud,   my   dear   brethren,   the  terrible 

vizier. 
He  hath  boasted  he  will  scatter  all  Brida  hither 

and  yon 
To  Mount  Ostrog.     Our  Black  Mountain  youth, 

with  bribes  they  shall  be  won; 
They  will  take  the  bribe  of  Mahmud,  and  be  con- 
quered by  his   fee, 
And  sell  him  the  Black  Mountain  and  the  flat  coast 

of  the  sea 
Unto  Ragusa.     His  will  will  he  do !     But  ye,  dear 

brothers,  know 
How  the  cursed  Turks  reproach  the  Serbs  because 

of  Kosovo, 
The   woful    fray;    Vuk   Brankovich  betrayed   the 

nation  there: 

[229] 


May  he  know  eternal  torment  for  his  treason  ev- 
erywhere ! 
Are  any  wounds  more  terrible  or  deadlier  found 

than  when 
An  arrow  out  of  heaven  strikes  down  a  king  of 

men? 

There  is  not  any  arrow  or  any  flying  dart 
Like  unto  such  reproach  and  shame,  to  tear  a  hero's 

heart. 
Your  fathers  fought  their  battles  for  faith  and 

freedom's   sake, 
That   never   Turkish   overlords   should  them   for 

bondmen  take. 
With  men  it  were  reproach  and  shame,  and  with 

God  a  mighty  sin, 
To  forsake  the  men  of  Brida,  that  are  our  nearest 

kin; 
But,  brethren,  as  you  trust  in  God,  to  the  Children 

of  Paul  the  White 
Let  us  go ;  the  heroes  of  Brida  we  will  succor  in 

the  fight. 
Had  not  the  Turks  made  themselves  strong,  when 

here  before  they  came, 
Scatheless  the  church  of  Tsetinye  they  had  not 

burned  with  flame, 
Nor  without  a  wound  have  ruined  our  monasteries 

fair; 
They  had  not  known  Koshchelitsa,1  nor  would  thus 

our  entrails  tear."  2 

1  The  name  of  a  mountain  in  Montenegro. 

2  "He  [Petar  I]  had  scarcely  returned  from  the  ceremony 
of  consecration  [in  1782]  at  the  hands  of  the  Serb  patriarch, 

[230] 


When  the  Black  Mountain  youth  had  heard,  to 

the  bishop  then  swore  they, 
That  the  champions   of  Brida  they  never  would 

betray, 
But   along  with  them  would  perish.     When   the 

bishop  had  seen  the  sight 
Of  their  good  will  and  freedom,  a  letter  did  he 

write 
All  in  the  fine-penned  character;  to  Mahmud  he 

sent  it  on: 
"Mahmud   Vizier!   in   Brida  let  the   fatherless 

alone ! 
Tear  not  the  fierce  wounds,  pasha,  that  thy  strong 

right  hand  gave! 
God  will  soon  grant  them,  haply,  that  a  vengeance 

they  will  have. 
And  if  thou  grewest  strong,  pasha,  when  here  thine 

army  came, 
When    scatheless    the    church    of    Tsetinye    thou 

burnedst  with  the  flame, 
And  without  a  wound  couldst  ruin  our  monasteries 

white — 
When  thou  burnedst  the  church,  then  all  our  youth 

in  their  live  hearts  didst  thou  smite. 
As  for  burning  our  monasteries,  sore  didst  thou 

wound  us  there, 
And   through  knowing  Koshchelitsa   our  entrails 

dost  thou  tear." 

.  .  .  when  he  was  compelled  to  face  a  Turkish  invasion. 
Kara  Mahmoud,  Pasha  of  Scutari,  and  a  descendant  of  the 
renegade  Montenegrin  Prince  Stanicha,  was  ravaging  the 
Black  Mountain,  and  set  fire  to  the  monastery  at  Cetinje,  as 
his  predecessors  had  done."  Miller,  op.  cit.,  pp.  408,  409. 

[231] 


When  that  the  bishop's  letter  to  the  vizier  was 

brought, 
And  he  knew  thereof  the  purport,  he  gave  it  not  a 

thought, 
But  he  stirred  up  all  Albania  and  to  level  Dolyani 

went; 
O'er  Podgoritsa  in  Zlatitsa  the  vizier  pitched  his 

tent, 
And  far  and  wide  on  every  side  his  camp  abroad 

he  spread. 
And  the  rumor  ran  to  the  bishop.     Then  forth  the 

bishop  sped 

To  the  green  Mount  Vritiyelka,  and  fired  the  can- 
non of  war, 
And  gathered  somewhat  of  the  host  from  Tsetinye 

and  afar. 
Then  over  the  Black  Mountain  he  marched  with  one 

and  all, 
Till  he  was  come  to  the  houses  of  the  Children  of 

White  Paul; 
In  the  fair  house  of  Boshkovich  the  bishop  spent 

the  night. 
And  when  upon  the  morrow  the  dawn  brake  fair 

and  bright, 
They  crossed  cold  Zeta  and  they  came  where  Sla- 

tina  water  ran, 
Before  the   church   of  the  Leeches,   Cosmas   and 

Damian ; 
And  there  the  bishop  made  his  camp,  and  there  the 

tents  were  pight. 
And   Mahmud   saw  it,   and  nearer   drew   from 

Spuzh  the  city  white ; 
[232] 


Over  Spuzh,  against  Derdemezi,  under  the  moun- 
tain  green, 
There  Vizier  Mahmud  made  his  camp,  and  there 

his  tents  were  seen. 
When  the  Bishop  of  Tsetinye  saw  it,  then  letters 

fine  he  penned; 
To  the  chiefs  of  the  Black  Mountain  the  letters 

did  he  send. 
But  when  the  letters  had  crossed  the  hills  and  to 

the  chiefs  had  come, 
And  the  captains  knew  their  purport,  they  left 

their  wives  at  home ; 
The   shepherds   left  their  flocks   of  sheep  in  the 

upper  grazing  land, 
And  up  they  took  the  knapsack  and  the  musket  in 

the  hand; 
They  went  o'er  the  Black  Mountain ;  in  haste  went 

every  man, 
Asking  of  the  prince.     They  found  him  where  S1&- 

tina  water  ran, 
Before  the   church   of  the  Leeches,   Cosmas   and 

Damian. 
There  at  the   church   was   gathered  a  fierce   and 

stalwart  host ; 
With  the  bishop  scarce  an  army,  fifteen  hundred  at 

the  most, 
But  indeed  of  the  little  army  that  by  the  bishop 

stood, 
All   the   soldiers    in   it   were  black   wolves    of  the 

wood; 
The  generals  of  the  army,  winged  eagles  were  they ; 

[233] 


And  the  young  ensigns  along  the  lines  were  even 

as  falcons  gray. 
And  Mahmud  sent  his  herald  his  army  through 

that  said: 
"Who  leads  the  bishop  to  me  alive  or  brings  me 

the  bishop's  head, 
To  him  shall  be  given  forthwith  all  Zeta's  level 

land, 
And  three  white  cities  in  Zeta,  and  three  packs  of 

gold  in  hand." 
Yakup  Aga  Serdarevich  and  Mehmed  Kokotliya 

said 
Boastingly  they  would  take  him  alive  or  bring  the 

bishop's  head. 
But  the  Turks  said  not,  "If  God  permit";  they 

trusted  in  their  might ; 
God  only  giveth  strength,  and  he  will  aid  no  Turk 

in  fight. 
For  three  weeks  stood  the  armies ;  drew  near  the 

time  and  the  day; 
They  yearned  for  fight — on  Thursday  they  got 

ready  for  the  fray; 
The  Turks  will  strike  on  Friday.     But  the  bishop, 

the  prudent  man, 
Before  the   church   of  the  Leeches,   Cosmas    and 

Damian, 
Gathered  his  host,  and  gave  them  the  blessing  of 

God  thereby, 
And  commended  all  the  army  to  the  care  of  the 

most  high, 

That  God  for  a  great  captain  might  with  the  van- 
guard go, 

[234,] 


And  swiftly  all  the  armies  of  the  Turk  might  over- 
throw. 
And  when  on  Friday  morning  the  fair  dawn  clearly 

shone, 
Then  against  the  Montenegrins  the  Turks  rushed 

fiercely  on. 

The  armies  charged  on  the  battlefield  till  the  mid- 
dle of  the  day, 
But  by  noon  the  Turks  had  turned  their  backs  and 

begun  to  run  away. 
It  was  worth  the  while  of  any  man  a  bit  thereby 

to  stand, 
And  watch  Mahmud,   the   great  vizier,   flee   fast 

across  the  land; 
Hardly  about  the  heavy  lout  once  dared  to  turn 

his  head, 
Till  to  Spuzh,  the  milk-white  city,  in  his  terror  he 

had  fled, 
And   to    gay-decked   Martiniche.     Of   the   Turks 

there  died  the  flower, 
Of  all  of  their  foot  soldiers  and  champions  in  that 

hour, 
And  pashas  and  silfktars,  and  heralds  quick  that 

ran, 
And  the  agas  and  spahis,  the  remnant  of  Ushchup 

and  Albasan, 
And   likewise    from   Alesso   and   Durazzo   on   the 

coast, 
From  Kavay  and  from  Oblom  the  heroes  of  their 

boast, 
From  Tiran  and  from  Dibran,  the  chosen  of  the 

town, 

[235] 


From  Prizrend  and  from  Vuchitrin,  their  best  that 

had  sent  down ; 

Syenitsa,  Mitrovitsa  their  foremost  had  sent  there, 
And  the  three  good  friends  died  with  them;  they 

fair, 

Oraovats  and  Ocha,  Pech  and  As  supplied  the  war, 
And  Gusinye  and  Vutsinye,  and  the  white  town  of 

Bar; 
And  the  men  of  Lyeshkopolye,  the  heroes  of  great 

fame, 

And  the  chiefs  of  Spuzh  the  bloody,  and  the  cham- 
pions that  came 
From  gay-decked  Podgoritsa  to  Vizier  Mahmud's 

side, 
Were  dead  with  the  lords   of  Scutari.     Mehmed 

Kokotliya  died, 
Likewise  Yakup  Serdarevich,  who  boastingly  had 

said 
That  they  would  take  the  bishop  alive,  or  else  would 

bring  his  head. 
All  of  the  vizier's  army  was  slaughtered  there  and 

then, 
But  of  the  bishop's  army  there  fell  but  eighteen 

men. 
And  many  champions  were  come  from  Jakovitsa 

were  a  trusty  three : 
Kritsun  Savo  was  one  of  them,  from  Byelitsa  was 

he; 
And  Stanko  of  Lyub6tin,  ensigns  worth  standing 

by; 
And  Bego  Voyvodicha — their  honor  will  not  die ! 

[236] 


God  gave  them  habitations  in  the  peace  of  para- 
dise, 

But  to  the  rest  he  giveth  health  and  merriment  like- 
wise. 


[237J 


BALLADS  WITHOUT  HISTORICAL 
FOUNDATION 


PREDRAG  AND  NENAD 

A  MOTHER  reared  two  tender  sons,  in  a  hungry 

time  and  year, 
At  her  left  and  right.     And  Predrag,  that  is  to 

say,  "Most  Dear," 

She  named  the  first  with  a  fair  name ;  also  the  sec- 
ond son 
Nenad  she  named,  that  is  to  say,  "the  Sudden, 

Unlooked-for  one." 
Predrag  grew  strong  to  wield  the  spear  and  the 

steed  to  ride  upon: 
He  ran  away  from  his  mother;  unto  the  wood  he 

sped, 
To    the    hayduks    and    the    outlaws.     Nenad    his 

mother  bred; 

Nenad  forgot  his  brother,  nor  pondered  him  upon. 
Nenad  grew  strong  to  wield  the   spear  and  the 

steed  to  ride  upon: 
He  ran  away  from  his  mother;  unto  the  wood  he 

sped, 
To  the   hayduks  and  the  outlaws.     Three  years 

that  life  he  led. 
He   was   a  hero   fortunate   and  lucky   amid   the 

spears ; 
His  comrades  made  him  their  captain ;  he  was  their 

chief  three  years. 
But  woe  was  him  for  his  mother;  to  his  comrades 

all  he  spake: 
"Comrades,"  said  he,  "now  woe  is  me  for  my 

dear  mother's  sake ! 

[241] 


Let  us  divide  our  treasures  and  go  to  our  mothers 

dear." 
Gladly   his    comrades  thereunto   harkened    and 

gave  an  ear. 
When  they  took  out  their  treasures,  each  man  a 

great  oath  sware, 
For  one  sware  by  his  brother  and  one  by  his  sister 

fair. 
But  when  Nenad  took  his  treasure,  he  spake  to  his 

comrades  by: 
"Comrades,  my  brothers,  brother  nor  sister  at 

all  have  I; 
But — so  may  the  one  God  hear  me! — may  this 

arm  be  withered  and  lean, 

May  the  mane  of  the  stallion  fall,  may  rust  de- 
vour the  saber  keen, 
If  any  of  the  treasure   I  have  kept  from  other 

men!" 
When  they  had  divided  the  treasure,  he  mounted 

his  charger  then, 
The  little  and  the  nimble;  to  his  mother  forth  he 

went, 
And  well  did  she  receive  him,  and  they  feasted  in 

content. 
When  they  sat  down  at  dinner,  said  Nenad  to  the 

dame: 
"My  gentle  mother,  surely  before  all  men  is  it 

shame ! 
I  would  say  thou  wert  not  my  mother,  'fore  God 

were  it  not  a  sin. 
Why  didst  thou  bear  me  no  brother,  or  sister  of 

my  kin? 

[242] 


When  my  comrades  divided  the  treasure,  each  man 

among  them  sware 

A  great  oath,  by  his  brother  or  by  his  sister  fair; 
But,  mother,  by  myself  I  sware,  and  my  weapons 

fair  to  see, 
And  also  in  that  hour  by  the  good  horse  under 

me." 
"Speak     not     foolishly,    Nenad!"    his    mother 

laughed  in  his  face ; 
"A  brother  indeed,  and  one  'Most  Dear,'  have  I 

borne  unto  thy  race. 
But  yesterday  did  I  hear  of  him ;  with  the  hayduks 

he  abides 
In  the  wood  of  Garevitsa,  and  chief  of  them  all  he 

rides." 
Said  Nenad: 

"Mother,  now  make  me  new  rai- 
ment of  the  green ; 
Short  shalt  thou  make  it,  fitting  in  the  forest  to  be 

seen, 
That  forth  in  the  wood  to  find  him  in  this  hour  I 

may  go, 
And  that  thus  may  pass  from  my  spirit  the  weight 

of  living  woe." 
His  mother  dear  bespake  him :     "Speak  not  like 

a  fool,"  said  she; 
"Nenad,  my  son,  in  very  truth  thou  wilt  perish 

miserably." 
But  Nenad  heard  not  his   mother,  nor  would 

harken  what  she  said; 
Whate'er  was  pleasing  in  his  sight,  he  did  that 

thing  instead. 

[243] 


He  made  himself  new  raiment;  he  wrought  it  of 

the  green ; 
And  short  he  made  it,  fitting  in  the  forest  to  be 

seen. 
He  mounted  the  steed;  to  his  brother  through  the 

forest  did  he  go, 
That  thereby  might  pass  from  him  his  weight  of 

living  woe. 
He  made  no  sound,  he  spat  not,  to  the  steed  he 

spake  not  at  all ; 
When  to  Garevitsa  wood  he  came,  like  a  gray  hawk 

did  he  call: 
"Green  wood  of  Garevitsa,  boldest  thou  hidden 

in  thee 
The  'Most  Dear,'  my  true  brother? — My  mother's 

son  is  he! 
Keepest   thou   not  the  hero  that  will  bring  my 

brother  to  me?" 
'Neath  a  green  fir  sat  Predrag  and  drank  the 

yellow  wine. 
When  he  heard  the  voice,  he  spake  to  his  men: 

"Ho,  comrades  good  of  mine! 
Go  forth  to  the  road  in  ambush ;  for  the  champion 

unknown 
Ye  shall  wait;  ye  shall  not  rob  him,  nor  shall  ye 

strike  him  down: 

Bring  him  alive  to  me,  hither.     Whate'er  his  line- 
age shows, 
He  is  kin  to  me." 

And  thereupon  full  thirty  lads 

arose. 

[244-] 


In  three  places  were  they  ambushed,  in  every  place 

ten  men; 
But  none  dared  go  before  him,  when  he  came  to 

the  first  ten, 
To  seize  his  steed ;  and  forthwith  they  shot  against 

him  then. 
Nenad  spake  'mid  the  arrows:     "Wood-brethren, 

shoot  me  not, 
Lest  woe  for  a  brother  smite  you,  such  as  drove  me 

to  this  spot." 
The  outlaws  of  the  ambush,  in  peace  they  let  him 

past. 
When  he  came  on  to  the  second  ten,  the  shafts  flew 

fierce  and  fast. 
Said   Nenad   'mid   the  arrows:     "Wood-brethren, 

shoot  me  not, 
Lest  woe  for  a  brother  smite  you,  such  as  drove 

me  to  this  spot, 
For  sorrow  of  him  hath  smitten  me."     In  peace 

they  let  him  past. 
When  he  came  to  the  third  ambush,  the  shafts  flew 

fierce  and  fast. 
Then  Nenad  the  young  was  angry ;  he  smote  the 

thirty  then. 
With  the  edges  of  the  saber  he  smote  on  the  first 

ten; 
The  second  ten  he  trampled  with  the  stallion  as  he 

could ; 
And  the  third  ten  he  scattered  in  his  anger  through 

the  wood, 
Some  of  them  in  the  forest,  and  some  beside  the 

flood. 

[245] 


One  shouted  unto  Predrag :     "A  plague  on  thee 

alight ! 
A    hero   unknown    in    the   forest   hath    slain    thy 

friends  in  fight." 
To  his  nimble  feet  leaped  Predrag;  he  took  his 

arrows  and  bow; 
Down  to  the  road  to  the  ambush  behind  a  fir  did 

he  go. 
With  an  arrow  from  the  stallion  he  smote  down 

Nenad  the  young. 
In  the  heart  was  he  hit ;  he  shrieked  like  a  hawk ; 

to  the  saddlebow  he  clung, 
Crying: 

"Hero  of  the  greenwood,  may  thy  right 
hand  wither  and  dry! 
God  slay  thee  alive  and  the  right  hand  the  arrow 

that  let  fly. 
May  thy  right  eye  be  blasted  wherewith  thou  hast 

looked  on  me ! 
May  woe  for  a  brother  smite  thee,  as  erst  it  smote 

on  me, 
Which  drove  me  wretchedly  hither,  in  evil  luck  to 

die !" 
When  Predrag  heard,  he  questioned  from  the 

fir  tree  on  high: 
"Who  art  thou,  wounded  hero,  and  of  what  race 

art  thou?" 
Said  Nenad : 

"Foh !  and  wherefore  thereof  dost 
thou  question  now? 

Dost  thou  seek  a  maiden  in  marriage?     In  faith 
I  will  give  thee  none ! 
[246] 


I  am  the  hero  Nenad,  and  my  mother  liveth  alone, 
And  I  have  but  one  born  brother,  a  brother  born 

'Most  Dear,' 

And  in  a  bitter  hour  I  sought  to  find  him  here, 
That  thereby  at  last  should  pass  away  the  weight 

of  my  living  woe ; 

And  I  came  on  evil  fortune  and  life's  very  over- 
throw." 
Predrag  heard,  and  let  fall  the  shafts ;  in  bitter 

terror  he  was ; 
He  ran  to  the  wounded  hero  and  laid  him  on  the 

grass : 
"Is  it  thou,  my  brother  Nenad?     I  am  Predrag, 

thy  brother  dear. 
Canst  thou  mend  of  the  wound?     My  raiment  I 

will  rend  in  pieces  here, 
And  heal   thee   well,   and  bandage   thee  with   the 

strips  of  linen  fine." 
And    the    wounded    Nenad    answered: 

"Is  it 

thou,  brother  mine? 
Glory  to  God  the  highest,  that  I  have  looked  on 

thee. 
The  burden  of  my  living  woe  is  passed  away  from 

me. 
I    cannot    mend,   but    of    my    hurt   bloodguiltless 

mayst  thou  be !" 
So  Nenad  spake,  and  thereupon  forth  his  strong 

spirit  went, 
And  Predrag  lifted  up  his  voice  with  a  miserable 

lament : 

[247] 


"Ah,  Nenad,  my  fair  splendid  sun,  early  for  me 
didst  thou  rise, 

And  early  set !     Ah,  basil  flower  of  my  green  para- 
dise, 

Early    didst    thou    bloom,    and    early    didst    thou 

wither  here  for  me !" 

From  the  scabbard  at  his  girdle  he  wrenched 
the  poniard  free ; 

Right  through  his  heart  he  plunged  it.     The  blood 
ran  swift  and  red ; 

Down  brother  fell  by  brother:  the  dead  lay  with 
the  dead. 


[  248  ] 


SISTER  AND  BROTHER 

NINE  dear  sons  and  a  daughter,  a  mother  bore  and 

bred; 
She  reared  them  up  till  they  were  grown  and  the 

sons  were  ready  to  wed, 

And  the  maiden  ripe  for  marriage.     And  straight- 
way asked  for  her 

Three  suitors,  a  ban,  and  a  marshal,  and  a  neigh- 
bor villager. 
To  the  neighbor  the  mother  would  give  her,  but 

her  brethren  to  the  man 
From  over  sea  would  give  her.     They  said  to  her: 

"Marry  the  ban, 
The  great  lord  from  beyond  the  sea.     In  every 

month  of  the   year 
We  will  come,  and  every  week  in  the  month,  to  see 

thee,  sister  dear." 
The  sister  obeyed  them,  and  the  ban  from  over 

sea  she  wed. 
But  behold  a  marvel !     God's  pestilence  struck  her 

nine  brethren  dead, 
And  the  solitary  mother  was  left.     So  passed  three 

years. 
In  her  grief  little  Yelitsa  the  sister  mourned  with 

tears : 
"Dear  God,  a  mighty  marvel!     What  great  sin 

have  I  done 
To  my  brethren,  that  of  all  of  them  cometh  to  me 

not  one?" 
The    wives    of   her   lord's   brethren    reviled   her 

sharp  enow: 

[249] 


"O  wife  of  our  lords'  brother,  a  wanton  one  art 

thou. 
Hateful  unto  thy  brethren  now  hast  thou  come  to 

be, 
That  not  one  of  thy  brethren  comes  here  to  visit 

thee." 
And  little  sister  Yelitsa  wept  much  both  day 

and  night; 
But  the  dear  God,  in  mercy,  took  pity   on  her 

plight, 
And  sent  forthwith  two  angels: 

"Go  down,  ye 

angels  of  mine, 
To  the  white  tomb  of  Yovan,  the  youngest  of  the 

nine; 
Breathe  light  upon  him  with  your  breath ;  from 

the  tomb  frame  him  a  steed; 
From  the  earth  make   cakes  for  the  festival  all 

ready  to  his  need; 
Of  his  shroud  make  gifts,  and  get  him  in  readiness 

to  appear 
Upon  his  wedding  visit  at  the  house  of  his  sister 

dear." 
To  the  white  tomb  of  Yovan  the  angels  of  God 

made  speed; 
They  breathed  upon  him  with  their  breath;  from 

the  tomb  they  framed  him  a  steed, 
And  cakes  from  the  earth  for  the  festival  all  ready 

to  his  need; 
Of  his   shroud  they   made  gifts,  and  got  him  in 

readiness  to  appear 

[250] 


Upon  his  wedding  visit  at  the  house  of  his  sister 

dear. 
Swiftly  went  Yovan  the  feeble.     When  the  house 

before  him  lay 
His  sister  saw,  and  to  meet  him  came  forth  a  little 

way; 
And  O  her  tears  fell  bitter,  all  for  her  sorrow's 

sake! 
They  spread  their  arms,  and  each  other  kissed,  and 

sister  to  brother  spake : 
"Did  ye  not  promise,  brother,  when  ye  gave  me 

in  marriage  here, 
That  ye  would  come  to  see  me  every  month  in  the 

year, 
And  every  week  in  every  month,  to  visit  your  sister 

dear  ? 
But  ye  never  came  to  see  me,  though  three  full 

years  have  fled." 

And  little  Yelitsa  further  unto  her  brother  said : 
"Why  hast  thou  grown  so  dark,  brother?     'Tis  as 

though  beneath  the  sod 
Thou  hadst  been."     Said  Yovan  the  feeble:     "Be 

still,  as  thou  lovest  God. 
A  hard  constraint  is  on  me.     I  have  wedded  eight 

brothers  well, 
And  served  eight  sisters  by  marriage;  and,  sister, 

it  befell 
That,  when  my  brothers  were  married,  we  made 

nine  houses  white. 
Therefore,  my  little  sister,  am  I  grown  as  black  as 

night." 

[251] 


And  little  sister  Yelitsa  got  ready.     She  fash- 
ioned then 

Gifts  for  her  brethren  and  sisters ;  silken  shirts  for 
the  men 

She  made,  and,  for  her  sisters,  fair  rings  and  brace- 
lets fair. 

And  ever  Yovan  her  brother  besought  her  strongly 

there : 

"Dear   little   sister   Yelitsa,   I    prithee    go   not 
home, 

Till  on  their  wedding  visit  thy  brethren  to  thee 

come." 

But  Yelitsa  would  not  turn  back ;  her  fair  gifts 
she  prepared. 

Thence  Yovan  started  homeward,  and  his  sister 
with  him  fared. 

When  they  were  come  to  their  home  again,  a  white 
church  stood  thereby. 

Said  Yovan  the  feeble: 

"Sister,  I  prithee  tarry 
nigh, 

Until  I  go  behind  the  church ;  for  here  at  the  mar- 
rying 

Of  the  fourth  of  our  eight  brethren,  I  lost  my 
golden  ring. 

Let  me  go  to  seek  it,  sister." 

To  his  tomb  went 
Yovan  straight, 

And  little  sister  Yelitsa  for  Yovan  there  did  wait. 

She  waited  and  sought  him.     Nigh  the  church  a 
fresh  grave  she  espied; 

[252] 


Suddenly  she  knew  in  sorrow  that  Yovan  the  weak 

had  died. 
Quickly  she  went  to  the  white  house.     When  she 

was  come  to  the  hall, 
In  the  hollow  rooms  of  the  white  house  she  heard 

a  cuckoo  call. 

Nay,  it  was  not  a  cuckoo  blue,  but  her  mother  cry- 
ing sore. 
Yelitsa  lifted  up  her  voice  as  she  came  unto  the 

door: 
"Open  the  door,  poor  mother."     Said  the  mother 

thereunto : 
"Get  hence,  thou  pestilence  of  God,  nine  sons 

of  mine  that  slew! 
Their  ancient  mother,  also,  wilt  thou  smite  stark 

and  dead?" 
And  little   sister  Yelitsa  lifted  her  voice   and 

said: 

"Poor  mother,  open  now  the  door!     No  pesti- 
lence is  here; 
It  is  only  little  Yelitsa,  and  she  is  thy  daughter 

dear." 
She  opened  the  door.     Each  other  they  clasped 

their  arms  around, 
Wailing  like  cuckoos.     Mother  and  child  fell  dead 

upon  the  ground. 


[858] 


MUYO  AND  ALIYA 

MUYO  and  Aliya  were  brothers,  and  nobly  did  they 

live; 
Their  very  steeds  and  armor  to  each  other  would 

they  give. 
They  came  unto  a  turbid  lake,  and  a  duck  went 

swimming  by, 
With  golden  wings ;  and  Muyo  let  his  gray  falcon 

fly, 

And  Aliya  a  tame  lanneret.     Them  happed  the 

duck  to  slay. 
Said  Muyo:     "The  falcon  took  it."     But  Aliya 

said,  "Nay, 
'Twas  the  lanneret." 

Then  was  Muyo  sore  cast 

down  in  that  place. 
They  seated  them  'neath  a  green  fir  to  drink  the 

wine  apace, 
And   sleep   and   the   wine   o'ercame   them.     They 

were  seen  of  three  vilas  l  white. 
Then  said  the  oldest : 

"Here  be  now  two  noble 

heroes  of  fight. 
I  will  give  an  hundred  sequins  to  whomsoever  of 

you 
Shall  make  the  heroes  quarrel." 

Then  forth  the 

youngest  flew 

i  See  note  2,  p.  15.    But  here  the  vilas  seem  to  be  really 
malignant. 

[254] 


On  her  white  wings,  and  settled  on  the  ground  by 

Muyo's  head; 
And  over  face  and  forehead  the  bitter  tears  she 

shed. 
Burned  Muyo's  face ;  as  he  were  mad,  he  leaped 

at  his  brother's  side. 
When  he  looked,  he  saw  the  damsel ;  to  his  brother 

then  he  cried: 
"Arise   now,   Aliya,  my  brother!     Let   us  hasten 

home  away." 
Up  leaped  the  Turk:     "Nay,  brother,  now  may  a 

plague  thee  slay ! 
Now  hast  thou  got  two  damsels,  but  there  is  none 

for  me." 
Muyo    was    grieved;    forth    from    his    belt    he 

wrenched  the  dagger  free, 
And  there  smote  Aliya  to  the  heart.     He  fell  on 

the  green  grass ; 
But  Muyo  seized  the  milk-white  steed,  and  threw 

behind  the  lass ; 
And  unto  his  own  homestead  o'er  the  mountain  did 

he  ride. 
Neighed  the  black  steed  of  Aliya,  and  the  wounded 

hero  cried: 
"O  Muyo,  brother  and  kinsman !  turn  back  upon 

the  way ; 

Take  the  black  steed,  lest  masterless  on  the  moun- 
tain side  it  neigh — 

i  "Muyo  must  have  been  married — or  did  it  seem  to  Aliya 
that  two  damsels  were  standing  by  Muyo?"  (Note  by 
Karajich.) 

[255] 


But  thy   fame  shall  be   forever,  as  though  thou 

hadst  blinded  thine  eyes." 
Muyo  turned  back  unto  him,  and  took  the  steed 

likewise, 

And  threw  the  girl  thereon.     Across   the  moun- 
tains did  they  pass ; 
And  when  about  the  middle  of  the  journey  home 

he  was, 
He  came  upon  a  raven  with  the  right  wing  gone 

from  the  side ; 
And  unto  the  black  raven  he  raised  his  voice  and 

cried: 
"Ho,    raven !     Without    the    black    right    wing, 

prithee  how  dost  thou  fare?" 
And  with  a  wail  the  raven  gave  answer  to  him 

there : 
"Without  my  wing  is  it  with  me  as  without  a 

brother  to  be ; 

As  without  Aliya,  Muyo,  is  it  even  now  with  thee." 
Said  the  Turk  to  himself:     "Ah,  Muyo,  alas  for 

thy  might  this  day ! 

If  even  the  birds  reproach  me,  what  will  my  breth- 
ren say?" 
Said  the  vila  to  him:     "Muyo,  return  on  thy 

track  again. 
Perchance  I  might  heal  thy  brother;  I  was  once  a 

healer  of  men." 
Muyo  turned  back  upon  the  track.     When  at 

the  lake  they  were, 
He   looked   behind   at   the  black   steed,   but   the 

maiden  was  not  there. 

[256] 


By  his  friend  he  knelt,  but  the  spirit  had  hasted 

to  depart; 
When  he  saw,  he  drew  his  dagger  and  thrust  it 

through  his  heart. 


[257 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  ST.  NICHOLAS 

DEAR  God,  great  marvel  is  it  unseen  wonders  to 

behold! 
In  St.  Paul's  white  monastery  were  tables  of  the 

gold, 
And  all  the  saints  in  order  were  seated.     At  the 

head 
Was  the  Thunderer  Elijah;  where  the  midst  of  the 

board  was  spread, 
Were   Mariya   and   Sava;   at  the  bottom   of   the 

board 
Were  Holy  Friday  and  Sunday.     To  the   glory 

of  Christ  the  Lord 
To   drink,    and  begin   the   festival,    St.    Nicholas 

stood  up, 
But  he  fell  asleep  in  a  little  and  in  slumber  dropped 

the  cup. 
It  fell  on  the  golden  table,  but  broke  not,  nor 

spilled  the  wine. 
Elij  ah  then  rebuked  him : 

"Nicholas,  brother  mine, 
We  have  not  slumbered,  brother,  though  we  drank 

cool  wine  ere  now, 
Nor  dropped  cups  from  our  fingers.     Why  dost 

thou  slumber  so?" 
Said  St.  Nicholas : 

"Elijah  the  Thunderer,  let  be ! 
I  closed  my  eyes  for  a  little  and  a  strange  dream 

came  to  me. 


[258] 


There  were  three  hundred  caloyers  x  set  sail  on  the 

blue  sea, 
And  they  bore  sacrificial  gifts  to  the  famous  Holy 

Height 
Of  Athos ;  yellow  wax  they  bore  and  also  incense 

white. 
The  wind  arose  among  the  clouds  ;  the  waves  of  the 

sea  it  smote, 
To    drown    three    hundred    caloyers.     But    they 

cried  as  from  one  throat: 
'Aid  us,  God  and  St.  Nicholas !     Come,  wherever 

thou  mayst  be  1' 
And  I  aided  them  and  the  caloyers   came  home 

again  from  sea; 
Safe  home  came  the  three  hundred,  and  O  their 

hearts  were  light! 
They    bore    the    sacrificial    gifts    unto   the    Holy 

Height 
Of  Athos ;  yellow  wax  they  bore  and  white  incense 

as  well. 
At  that  time  did  I  slumber,  and  the  cup  from  my 

fingers   fell." 

i  Monks  of  the  Greek  church. 


[259] 


THE  SERPENT  BRIDEGROOM 

I  WILL  tell  you  a  marvel,  brethren,  how  the  King 

of  Budim  was  wed, 
And  nine  full  years  passed  over,  yet  there  was  no 

child  to  his  bed. 

Forth  issued  King  Milutin ;  he  went  to  the  forest- 
close  ; 
But  God  and  fortune  granted  him  not  to  strike  the 

stags  and  does. 

And  his  thirst  was  great ;  to  a  chilly  spring  Mi- 
lutin went  his  way, 
And  drank  the  chilly  water.     Then  down  'neath  a 

fir  he  lay. 
Three  vilas  of  the  hill  came  then,  thereby  their 

thirst  to  slake, 
And  gossip  by  the  water;  and  the  eldest  of  them 

spake : 
"Harken,  beloved  daughters!     Harken  me  now, 

and  hear! 
Since  the  King  of  Budim  married,  now  is  it  full 

nine  year; 
And  yet  no  child  of  his  heart  hath  he  to  cherish  and 

hold  dear." 
Said  the  vila  also:     "Of  any  herb  doth  either 

of  you  know, 
By  the  virtue  whereof,  hereafter,  his  wife  with 

child  shall  go?" 
But  the  younger  twain  said  nothing.     Only  the 

eldest  said: 
"If  the  king  knew  all  my  knowledge,  he  would 

gather  every  maid 

[260] 


In  Budim,  and  before  them  the  dry  gold  would  he 

set, 
Until   their  hands    should   have   woven   thereof   a 

splendid  net. 
Down  on  the  quiet  Danube,  he  would  throw  the 

fair  net  in. 
In  it,  a  great  fish  would  he  take ;  and  golden   is 

every  fin. 
He  would  take  the  right  fin  from  it ;  then  back  the 

fish  would  he  throw, 
And  give  the  fin  to  the  queen  to  eat.     Straightway 

with  child  would  she  go." 
But  King  Milutin  saw  them,  and  heard  whate'er 

was  said; 
And  he  went  to  the  town  of  Budim  and  gathered 

every  maid 
In  Budim,  and  before  them  the  good  dry  gold  he 

set, 
Until  their  hands  had  woven  thereof  a  splendid 

net. 
Down  on  the  quiet  Danube  he  threw  the  fair  net 

in. 
In  it  he  took  a  mighty  fish,  and  golden  was  every 

fin. 
He  took  the  right  fin  from  it;  and  back  the  fish 

did  he  throw ; 
He  gave  the  fin  to  his  queen  to  eat.      Straightway 

with  child  did  she  go. 
A  year  she  carried  her  burden ;  and  then  the  time 

came  on 
Of  the  bringing  forth  of  the  kingly  child,  but  she 

did  not  bear  a  son. 
[261] 


Nay,  a  fierce  serpent  was  it!     On  the  earth  when 

it  did  faU, 
Straightway  the   serpent   crept   away  through  a 

crevice  in  the  wall. 
And  straight  the  queen  departed ;  unto  the  king  she 

spake : 
"For  the  child  of  thy  heart,  it  is  hard,  O  king, 

to  be  merry  for  his  sake. 
No  son  but  a  serpent !     What  time  on  the  earth 

the  snake  did  fall, 

Forthwith  the  serpent  crept  away  through  a  crev- 
ice in  the  wall." 
Then  said  the  king:     "Now  glory  to  God  for 

his  gift's  sake." — 
Then  seven  years  passed  over.     From  the  wall  the 

serpent  spake: 
"Wherefore,  thou  King  of  Budim,  findest  thou  no 

bride  for  me?" 
Sore  was  Milutin  troubled,  but  at  length  aloud 

said  he: 
"My  serpent,  my  evil  offspring,  who  will  give  a 

maid  to  a  snake?" 
But  thus  to  him  the  serpent  raised  up  his  voice  and 

spake : 
"My  father,  the  King  of  Budim,  do  thou  saddle 

Swallow,  and  wend 
To  the  tsar.     He  will  give  thee  a  maid  for  me  in 

the  city  of  Prizrend." 
When  the  King  of  Budim  heard  it,  he  saddled 

Swallow,  the  steed; 
There  went  unto  a  hero,  a  hero  then  indeed ! 


He  came  to  the  city  of  Prizrend.     When  he  came 

'neath  the  tsar's  tower, 
The  tsar  looked  down  upon  him,  and  saw  him  in 

that  hour. 
The  tsar  came  down  unto  him,  and  in  the  open 

square 
The  heroes  spread  out  wide  their  arms,  and  kissed 

each  other  there, 
And  each  asked  how  fared  the  other.     The  tsar 

the  king  did  lead 
To  the  palace ;  to  the  new  stable  the  servants  took 

the  steed. 
For  three  white  days  with  yellow  wine  their  thirst 

the  kings  did  slake, 
Till  they  had  ta'en  their  fill  thereof,  and  then  the 

brandy  spake. 

Sore  was  the  King  of  Budim  by  his  embassy  dis- 
tressed. 

The  Tsar  of  Prizrend  saw  it,  and  thus  the  king  ad- 
dressed : 
"I  conjure  thee,  King  of  Budim;  what  trouble 

troubles  thee, 
That  thou  art  distressed  in  spirit  before  my  lords 

and  me?" 
The  king  to  the  tsar  spake  likewise: 

"0  tsar 

of  Prizrend,  hear! 
When  I  married,  no  son  of  my  heart  was  born  for 

the  space  of  full  nine  year. 
When  that  their  term  was  over,  and  the  nine  year 

course  was  run, 

To  me  was  born  a  serpent  instead  of  a  little  son; 
[263] 


And,  at  its  birth,  unto  the  earth  did  the  fierce 

serpent  fall, 
And  forthwith  the  serpent  crept  away  through  a 

crevice  in  the  wall. 
When  seven   years  were  over,  therefrom  did  the 

serpent  call: 
'Wherefore,  thou  King  of  Budim,  dost  thou  find 

no  bride  for  me?' 

And  unto  the  fierce  serpent  I  answered  finally: 
'My  serpent,  my  evil  offspring,  who  will  give  a 

maid  to  a  snake?' 
But   thereupon   the   serpent  lifted   his  voice   and 

spake : 
"  'My  father,  the  King  of  Budim,  do  thou  saddle 

Swallow  and  wend 
To  the  tsar.     He  will  give  thee  a  maid  for  me  in 

the  city  of  Prizrend.' 

"And  tsar,  a  wretch  am  I  in  this.     But  I  la- 
bored and  came  from  afar." 
And  unto  the  king  in  answer  outspake  at  last 

the  tsar: 
"Hearest  thou,  King  of  Budim?     To  Budim  for 

me  thou  shalt  go. 
There    shalt   thou    ask   the   serpent   in   the  wall, 

whether  or  no 
He  will  lead  the  wooers  from  Budim  to  Prizrend 

through  the  land, 
So  that  no  sun  shall  warm  them,  nor  dew  upon 

them  stand. 
If  in  such  wise  the  serpent  will  venture  them  to 

lead, 

[264] 


Then  for  a  bride  to  the  serpent  I  will  give  the 

maid  indeed." 
When  the  King  of  Budim  heard  it,  forth  was 

steed   Swallow  led. 
He  threw  himself  on  the  back  of  the  steed,  and 

forth  away  he  sped, 

Over  the  level  country,  like  a  star  in  the  lucid  sky. 
And  the  king  thought  within  him,  when  Budim  he 

came  nigh: 
"Alas !     In    the   name    of    God   the    One,   now 

whither  shall  I  wend, 
To  give  to  the  serpent  in  the  wall  the  greetings 

the  tsar  doth  send?" 
Before  the  gates  of  Budim  but  a  little  space  was 

he. 
Spake  the  serpent :     "My  father,  gave  the  tsar  his 

maiden  unto  me?" 
Said  the  king: 

"My  evil  offspring,  if  thou  dar- 

est,  snake,  to  wend 
With  the  crowd  of  gay-clad  wooers  from  Budim 

to  Prizrend, 
So  that  no  sun  shall  wann  them,  nor  dew  upon 

them  stand, 
The  tsar  will  lightly  surrender  the  maiden  to  thy 

hand. 
But  if  the  crowd  of  wooers  thou  wilt  not  venture 

to  lead, 
No  maiden  of  his  whatever  will  the  tsar  give  thee 

indeed." 
But  the  serpent  said: 

[265] 


"The  wooers,  now  get 

them  ready  to  hand. 
We  will  go  hence  for  the  maiden;  I  will  lead  them 

through  the  land, 
So  that  no  sun  shall  warm  them,  nor  dew  upon  them 

stand." 
They   gathered  a  host   of  wooers,   a  thousand 

with  all  speed; 
They     came     to     the     king's     courtyard.     They 

brought  forth  Swallow  the  steed; 
Alone  in  the  courtyard  stood  the  steed.     Then  the 

quick  heralds  cried: 
"Make    ready,    gay-clad    wooers!     Make    ready, 

groom  of  the  bride  1" 
And  when  in  the  wall's  crevice  the  serpent  heard 

the  call, 

Forthwith  crawled  down  the  serpent  from  the  crev- 
ice in  the  wall; 
By  the  knee  he  gripped  the  charger ;  on  the  saddle 

he  coiled  and  lay. 
Then  out  through  Budim  the  city  they  hastened 

on  their  way. 
From  Budim  to  Prizrend  a  dark  blue  cloud  drave 

o'er  them  through  the  land, 
So  that  no  sun  could  warm  them,  nor  dew  upon 

them  stand. 
When  they  came  to  Prizrend,  they  led  their  steeds 

through  the  tsar's  courtyard  there ; 
But   the   serpent    guided   not   Swallow   that   went 

alone  through  the  square. 
Gloriously  the  tsar  welcomed  them  with  gifts  that 

were  splendid  indeed, 
[266] 


To  every  wooer  a  shirt  of  silk,  to  the  groom  a  hawk 
and  a  steed, 

And  moreover  the  maiden  of  Prizrend.     Then  the 

quick  heralds  cried: 

"Make    ready,    wooers,    and    groomsman,    and 
bringer  of  the  bride! 

Make  ready,  maiden  of  Prizrend!     It  is  time  for 

us  to  ride." 

The  wooers  and  the  maiden,  they  mounted  one 
and  all. 

When  the  serpent  heard  it,  down  he  came  from 
the  crevice  in  the  wall; 

He  gripped  the  charger  by  the  knee ;  on  the  sad- 
dle he  coiled  and  lay. 

Then  out  through  Prizrend  the  city  they  hastened 
on  their  way, 

But  evermore  above  them  drave  on  the  dark  blue 
cloud. 

The  wooers  spurred  their  horses,  until  they  tram- 
pled proud; 

And  thereupon  the  serpent  on   Swallow  that  did 
ride, 

He  made  the  charger  trample  on  the  pavement  in 
his  pride. 

He  goaded  him  so  fiercely,  that  the  steed  from  end 
to  end 

Hath  ruined  all  the  pavement  in  the  city  of  Priz- 
rend. 

Plague  strike  on  it!     In  twelve  full  years  the  ma- 
sons scarce  will  mend 

The  damage  that  upon  that  time  unto  the  tsar 
was  done. 

[267] 


And  merrily  and  with  good  heart  to  Budim  they 
were  gone, 

And  anew  the  marriage  festival  they  held  a  full 
week  more, 

And  solemnized  it  duly  until  the  rites  were  o'er. 

Then  each  returned  unto  the  house,  and  the  ser- 
pent to  the  wall, 

And  the  king  remained  a  season  within  the  council- 
hall. 

Time  came  to  bring  together  the  bridegroom 
and  the  bride. 

They  brought  her  to  the  tower;  to  the  highest 
room  they  hied; 

They  left  her  in  the  highest  room.     At  the  middle 
of  the  night 

There  was  a  sound  of  voices  in  the  chamber  in  the 
height ; 

And  the  Lady  Queen  in  the  tower  stole  on  from 
floor  to  floor, 

Till  she  reached  the  highest  story ;  then  she  opened 
the  chamber  door. 

What  saw  she  in  the  chamber?     A  mighty  marvel 
therein ! 

On  a  cushion  in  the  chamber,  there  lay  a  serpent- 
skin; 

On  the  pillow  a  good  hero  in  slumber  deep  was 
laid; 

And  the  damsel  out  of  Prizrend,  he  held  the  lovely 
maid. 

A  mother  has  joy  of  her  children.     She  stole  the 
serpent-skin ; 

[268] 


She  bore  it  to  the  living  fire,  and  swiftly  threw  it 
in. 

To  the  king,  her  lord  and  master,  she  ran  forth 

hastily : 

"O  king,  upon  this  hour  it  is  well  with  thee  and 
me! 

I  went  to  the  high  chamber,  and  opened  the  door. 
Therein 

On  a  cushion  in  the  chamber  there  lay  a  serpent- 
skin; 

On  the  pillow  a  good  hero  in  slumber  deep  was 
laid; 

The  damsel  out  of  Prizrend,  he  held  the  lovely 
maid. 

And  forthwith  from  the  chamber  I  stole  the  ser- 
pent-skin, 

And  took  it  to  the  living  fire,  and  quickly  threw 

it  in." 
"What   is   this,   wife?     May   the  serpent   now 

seize  thee  and  devour!" 

And  they  hastened  forth  together  to  the  sum- 
mit of  the  tower. 

What  saw  they  ?     A  mighty  marvel !     On  the  pil- 
low a  hero  dead; 

The  maid  of  Prizrend  embraced  him.     She  lifted 

her  voice  and  said: 

"Alas !     In  the  name  of  the  one  God,  I  am  wid- 
owed and  alone! 

My  mother,  for  me — God  slay  thee! — little  enow 
hast  thou  done, 

And  this  woe  hast  thou  brought  upon  thyself." 
So  the  mother  lost  her  son. 
[269] 


We   give  you  the  song,  but  God  on  high  gives 

health  unto  the  wise. 
Our  fathers  lied  unto  us,  and  we  repeat  their  lies. 


[  270 


THE  WIFE  OF  HASAN  AGA 1 

WHAT  shows  white  in  the  wood?     A  flock  of  swans 

or  a  bank  of  snow? 
Swans  would  have  flown  and  a  snow  bank  would 

have  melted  long  ago. 
It  is  not  snow,  nor  a  milk-white  swan,  but  Hasan 

Aga's  tent; 
Sore  wounded  was  he.     His  mother  and  sister  to 

him  went; 
For  very  shame  his  wife  came  not.2     When  his 

wounds  were  healed  aright, 

1  This  poem  is  based  on  the  life  of  the  Mohammedan 
Serbs.  It  is  noteworthy  not  only  from  its  own  literary 
merit,  but  from  being  the  first  of  the  Servian  ballads  to  be- 
come known  to  western  Europe,  and,  above  all,  from  the 
magnificent  translation  of  it  by  Goethe.  It  was  first  printed 
by  the  Abate  Alberto  Fortis,  in  his  Viaggio  in  Dalmazia, 
Venice,  1774,  with  an  accompanying  Italian  translation. 
Fortis  probably  derived  the  ballad  from  a  manuscript  that 
is  still  preserved.  In  the  next  year,  1775,  there  appeared 
a  German  translation  of  a  portion  of  Fortis's  work  (in- 
cluding this  ballad)  Die  Sitten  der  Morlacken  aus  dem 
Italienischen  iibersetzt,  Bern,  1765.  Goethe  based  his  own 
work,  which  was  probably  executed  in  this  same  year,  1775, 
on  this  German  translation,  but  apparently  also  referred  to 
Fortis's  original  work,  with  its  edition  of  the  original  text. 
His  poem  was  first  printed  in  Herder's  Volkslieder,  in  1778. 
Karajich  reprinted  this  ballad  from  the  text  of  Fortis,  but 
with  a  changed  orthography  and  several  conjectural  emenda- 
tions. Finally,  the  manuscript  to  which  Fortis  was  in- 
debted was  published  by  Miklosich  in  1883,  at  Vienna,  along 
with  a  full  discussion  of  the  different  questions  connected 
with  the  poem  (Sitzunggberichte  der  phil.-histor.  Classe  d-er  I 't 
kaiserl.  Akads  d.  W.,  ciii,  413-490).  / 

2  "The  wife  'could  not  even  in  this  case  overcome  her  dread 
of  meeting  a  man.  A  girl  is  praised  in  a  folksong  as  'hav- 
ing never  seen  a  male  being.' "  Miklosich,  p.  438. 

[271] 


He  charged  his  faithful  wife  withal: 

"Come  not 
into  my  sight; 

Await    me    never,    woman,   my    fair   white   house 
within ; 

Nor  yet  do  thou  abide  me  in  the  houses  of  my  kin." 
When  the  faithful  woman  heard  it,  sad  was  her 
heart  indeed. 

Suddenly  from  the  house  she  heard  the  trampling 
of  the  steed. 

To  the  window  she  ran,  to  break  her  neck  by  leap- 
ing down  from  the  tower; 

But  the  daughters  of  Hasan  Aga  pursued  her  in 

that  hour: 

"Return  to  us,  dear  mother !     Our  father  comes 
not,"  said  they ; 

"It   is   thy   brother,   our  uncle,   Pintorovich   the 

Bey." 

The  wife  of  Hasan  Aga,  to  her  brother's  breast 
she  came: 

"Ah,  brother,  from  my  children  five  doth  he  send 

me !     It  is  shame !" 

Naught  said  the  bey ;  in  his  silken  pouch  forth- 
with his  hand  he  thrust 

For  a  bill  of  divorce  that  granted  her  her  dower 
held  in  trust,1 

And  bade  her  go  to  her  mother.     When  the  pur- 
port thereof  she  wist, 

i  By  the  Turkish  law  a  sum  of  money  is  promised  to  a 
woman  at  her  marriage  before  the  cadi ;  this  she  may  receive 
in  case  she  is  divorced  by  her  husband. 

[JTO] 


Forthwith  upon  the  forehead   her  two  fair  sons 

she  kissed, 
And   on   their   rosy   cheeks   she  kissed  her  little 

daughters  twain. 
But  the  little  son  in  the  cradle  she  could  not  leave 

for  pain. 
Her  brother  took  the  lady's  hand ;  and  hard  it  was 

to  lead 
That  wretched  woman  from  her  babe,  but  he  threw 

her  on  the  steed; 
He  brought  her  unto  the  white  house,  and  there 

he  took  her  in. 
A  little  while,  but  scarce  a  week,  she  stayed  among 

her  kin. 
Good  is  the  matron's  parentage,  men  seek  her  in 

marriage  withal; 
But  the  great  Cadi  of  Imoski  desires  her  most  of 

all. 
"So  should  I   not  desire  it,"  imploringly   she 

said. 

"Brother,  I  prithee,  give  me  not  to  any  to  be  wed, 
That  my  heart  break  not  with  looking  on  my  chil- 
dren motherless." 
But  the  bey  no  whit  he  cared  at  all  because  of 

her  distress ; 
TO  the  great  Cadi  of  Imoski  he  will  give  her  to 

be  wed. 
Still  the  matron  with  her  brother  most  miserably 

she  pled, 

That  he  a  milk-white  letter  to  the  cadi  should  pre- 
pare, 
And  send  it  to  the  cadi: 

[273] 


"The  matron  1  greets 

thee  fair, 
And  implores  thee:  when  that  thou  hast  brought 

the  wooers  from  every  side, 
And  when  thou  comest  to  her  white  house,2  do  thou 

bring  a  veil  for  the  bride, 
That  she  see  not  by  the  aga's  house  her  children 

motherless." 
When  the  letter  came  to  the  cadi,  with  pomp 

and  lordliness 
He  gathered  many   wooers;   ah,  nobly  did  they 

come! 
And  splendidly  the  wooers  they  brought  the  fair 

bride  home! 
But  when   they   were  by   the  aga's  house,   forth 

looked  her  daughters  fair, 
And  her  two  sons  came  before  her,  and  spoke  to 

their  mother  there: 
"Return   with   us,   dear  mother,   to   eat  with  us 

again !" 
When  the  wife  of  Hasan  Aga  heard,  she  spake  to 

the  groomsman  then: 
"Brother    in    God,    my    groomsman,    stop    the 

steeds,  of  gentleness, 
By  my  house,  that  I  may  give  fair  gifts  to  my 

children  motherless." 
They  checked  the  steeds  at  the  house  for  her. 

She  gave  her  children  gifts ; 
To  either  son  a  gilded  knife,  to  her  daughters  fair 

long  shifts, 

i  "Maiden"  in  the  original ! 

*This  phrase  was  inserted  by  Kar&jich. 

[274] 


To  her  babe  in  the  cradle  a  garment  in  a  bit  of 

linen  tied.1 

When  Hasan  Aga  saw  it,  to  his  two  sons  he  cried: 
"Hither,  my  children  motherless  1  and  from  her 

stand  apart ! 
Pity  and  mercy  hath  she  none  within  her  stony 

heart!" 
She  heard.     Her  face  smote  on  the  ground  in 

the  deep  of  her  distress, 
And  her  soul  departed   as   she  saw  her  children 

motherless. 

i  That  is,  wrapped  up,  to  be  saved,  for  a  later  time,  when 
he  is  grown  up.  But  the  sense  of  this  line  and  the  preceding 
is  very  doubtful.  See  Jagich,  in  Archiv  fur  slavische  Philol- 
ogie,  x,  659,  660. 


[275] 


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